


The Wolf Maiden of Winterfell

by War_of_Stars



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Canon Divergence - Tourney at Harrenhal, F/M, Female Ned Stark, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Period-Typical Sexism, Robert's Rebellion, Tourney at Harrenhal, Weddings, Year of the False Spring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-06-14 00:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 54,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15376344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/War_of_Stars/pseuds/War_of_Stars
Summary: Honourable. Courageous. Compassionate. The wolf-maiden of Winterfell is all these things and more.When Eddard Stark is born Eddara, otherwise known as Ned, elder sister to Lyanna, Westeros is irrevocably changed.It starts with the Tourney of Harrenhal, and ends in a tale worthy of a song.





	1. A She-Wolf is Born

In the midst of hail and snow that coats everything from the North to the Vale, one of the fiercest snowstorms the North has ever seen, Eddara Stark is born.

She is born three years after her older brother Brandon, and everyone expects her to be a boy well. But fate is a funny thing, so one who might have been born Eddard Stark in another lifetime is born Eddara.

It does not make her mother love her any less. Lyarra Stark takes one look at her beautiful daughter, solemn faced and grey-eyed, and laughs with delight. "Oh my dear Eddara, the apple of my eye."

Rickard Stark feels differently, as he had hoped for an heir and a spare, but he supposes that there is still time to have a spare. Besides, it would do Brandon some good to have a little sister to take care of, and Lyarra had wanted a daughter this time.

Brandon takes one look at Eddara and promptly declares that he'll protect her from anyone that might do her harm. He puffs out his tiny three year old chest proudly, delighted to finally play the part of a handsome, chivalrous knight to the only creature in Winterfell that is more helpless than him.

When baby Eddara promptly hits Brandon in the eye with one of her pudgy little fists, he realizes that "helpless" is perhaps not the right word for his northern sister.

Despite the occassional temper tantrum, Eddara is a silent baby, content at staring up at her family members, a stark contrast from Brandon, who spent every waking minute crying and yelling as an infant. Brandon finds himself mystified at his sister's quiet nature, so different from his own.

Ten months later, Brandon Stark finds a kindred sprit in Lyanna Stark, his newborn sister, a squalling, red faced little thing who is clearly prettier than Eddara. Moreover, she is loud in the way he was, and that, Brandon can understand.

Two years later, little Benjen is born, the spare Rickard Stark always wanted for assurances. However, this birth has taken a toll on Lyarra. Eddara and Brandon are old enough to understand that something is very wrong with their mother, and they stay by her bedside day and night.

She smiles, brushing Eddara's stringy hair out of her eyes and kissing Brandon on the cheek before passing away in the night.

It is a terrible tragedy.

Brandon screams and Lyanna wails, while Eddara stays silent, tears streaming down her face as they stare at their unmoving mother. But they are Starks. Their blood is ice, and they can survive anything the snows throw at them.

Appropriately, it is fire that ultimately tears them apart.

************************

The Stark children grow up, adjusting to the lack of a mother. Benjen and Brandon have lessons on how to manage a holdfast and carry out the duties of a lord, respectively.

Lyanna and Eddara, being highborn ladies, are given very different lessons, ones that mainly revolve around knitting, singing, dancing, and other "womanly arts."

The two of them might fight on a regular basis, but if there's one thing that both girls agree on, it's that learning how to swing a tourney sword is a much more useful skill. Lyanna loves the feel of steel in her hand, while Eddara simply believes that anyone should be able to fight to protect themselves and the people they love, lady or lord.

Rickard Stark finds them at it one day, practicing with wooden swords against one another, and angrily forbids them from picking up weapons ever again. "It's not expected of a lady," he elucidates. "Especially in the South." It would be years before Eddara would understand what had happened, when she would overhear a conversation between Brandon and his illicit lover Barbrey Dustin, as the woman whispered in his ears, _southron ambitions._

Lyanna, born with a touch of the wolfsblood in her veins, defies him openly time and time again until their father is forced to have a chaperone watch her every hour of the day. Even then, Lyanna is recalcitrant, skipping lessons to ride her horse instead, since atleast that isn't a forbidden activity.

Eddara is not as rebellious as her sister, and less open about her interest in weapons, much more subtle. She nods her head, attends her lessons and perfects her curtsies, acting like the paragon of virtue as she sneaks off into the godswood to practice her swordwork.

Rumors persist of Rickard Stark's eldest daughter's piety, for she seems to spend every day in those woods. If only they knew. Of course, Eddara has a strong connection to her faith, but her activities are a lot more clandestine than anyone would think.

However, childhood does not last forever, as Eddara quickly discovers at thirteen years old, when she wakes up in a bed full of blood.

Her knees wobbling, her fingers trembling, her eyes dashing from side to side, Eddara nervously takes a seat in front of her father in his study. "My little Eddara, you've flowered now, and I'm sure the septa has explained the particulars to you by now. I understand that although Lyanna has to stay in Winterfell to learn some discipline, you have always been an obedient child. I know you'll make your new house proud."

Eddara's stomach drops. "My new house?"

"Yes, whichever it might be. I've already been approached by two lords and am considering two options: Jon Arryn's current heir, Elbert, or Jaime Lannister."

"... Arryn or Lannister? What about the northernmen?"

"I can betroth Brandon or Benjen to some northern lady, but I want you to retain your title as a lady of one of the seven great houses. Since Jaime Lannister is being fostered to become a knight, he isn't currently at Casterly Rock, so I've reached out to Jon. He's agreed to take you in for the next few years, see if the Vale would be a good fit for you."

_Would it matter, Father? You'd just give me away either way like a broodmare, regardless of my opinion._

Eddara longs to say the words out loud, but she cannot bring herself too, and instead settles for obediently curtsying to her lord father.

She runs out of the study. She runs, and she runs, and she runs, not once looking back.

It is Lyanna that finds her first after she's collapsed in the godswood, sobbing at the thought of leaving Winterfell behind. "It's the only home I've ever known, Lyanna."

"It's not fair! He can't make you go!" The two girls have made their way back to the bedroom, and instead of comforting Eddara, Lyanna rages. Finally, she calms down and snuggles under the bearskin blanket next to her sister, the firelight, their sole source of heat and warmth, creating eerie shadows on the ceiling.

"We should run away, Ned. Somewhere far away from father and his stupid rules, a place where we would choose our husbands. A place where we could meet men who would accept us for who we are, teach us how to wield weapons and ride in tourneys and all the other things that father forbids us from doing. It would be wonderful, Ned, just like a song."

Eddara lightly kicks Lyanna's ankles, and the other girl lets out a laugh. It's Lyanna's fault that she was saddled with that boyish nickname in the first place, but Eddara doesn't mind that much, not really.

Lyanna's eyes grow dreamy as she imagines her knight in shining armor. That is the big difference between them, Eddara realizes. Lyanna is every bit the tomboy that Eddara is, but she still wants romance and love like Florian and Jonquil, the kind that is sung about in the songs, from Oldtown to King's Landing. 

She wants to be a knight and to fall in love; Lyanna wants everything. In contrast, Eddara has always solely been a warrior, the instincts of a soldier ingrained into her since birth.

She worries for Lyanna, sometimes. Her younger sister's view of the world is so naive and sheltered. In her eyes, all knights are gallant and just, and there is nothing Lyanna wants more than to be one. Eddara doesn't share her view, being old enough and clever enough to know that men are not always what they seem.

The day finally comes when Eddara is shipped off to the Eyrie. She hugs Benjen and kisses him on the cheek, wiping away his tears before curtsying once more to her lord father. She attempts to shake Brandon's hand, but he lifts her in the air, spinning her around.

"You tell me if that Eyrie boy messes with you, alright Ned? I'll beat him to a pulp." He sets her down and ruffles her hair, offering a silent goodbye.

Lyanna's goodbye is the hardest. Ned can tell her little sister is trying so very hard to be brave about the entire thing.

The courageous front collapses when Ned gifts her a crown of winter roses, her favorite flowers. She embraces Ned, crying just as loudly as Benjen, and the elder girl hushes her patiently, patting her on the back.

"You may be a girl, but you and I are wolf maidens of the north, my sweetling. You must never forget that."

With that, Ned boards the boat and is off to the Vale. She turns around and catches one last glimpse of Winterfell, her beloved home. Snow-covered peaks and bustling streets. Granite towers, iron doors, frozen lakes. Direwolves running in the forests at night.

She breathes it all in one last time.

*******************************

The journey to the Eyrie is uneventful. The knights of the Vale that accompany her are an honorable sort, and they ensure that she is never bored, with their stories ranging from all across Westeros, from Duskendale to the tragedy at Summerhall.

Eddara greets Jon Arryn first. He is a kindly man, a bit stiff and solemn, much like herself. Elbert Arryn, her soon-to-be betrothed, takes one look at her and gives her a smile as false as one's own reflection.

It's clear that he sees what all the others see in her. A stringy, brown-haired girl with slightly tanned skin and a long face. Faint scabs are visible on her forearms, which were more muscly due to years of practice with a sword, as well as a bow and arrow. Eddara is tall, too, and far more likely to frown than smile.

She and Elbert barely speak to one another.

Which is fine, because in the first week that Eddara spends in the Eyrie, she makes a new friend. She had been exploring the castle's armory, a dusty room filled with every weapon imaginable. She picks up an average sized sword, going out to the empty training yard and swinging it around.

"Hey!" A voice cries out in indignation as Eddara swings her sword to the right, almost cutting off someone's head.

"I'm sorry! Are you alright?" Ned faces the boy, a well-built, black haired teenager with sparkling blue eyes, filled with amusement.

"I'm alright, my lady. You're Eddara, the lady from the North, right? I'm Robert Baratheon."

"I know who you are, I saw you when I greeted Lord Arryn." A few moments of awkward silence persist before Robert clears his throat and asks, "So what is a lady like you doing with a sword like that? Weapons are dangerous, you know. You could easily hurt yourself."

Ned narrows her eyes. "Funny. A minute ago it seemed like the only person I was going to hurt was _you._ " She doesn't know what is compelling her to act so foolishly, or why she's speaking so arrogantly towards this boy, but somehow his condescending attitude has awakened a desire inside of her to prove herself to atleast one person in this castle.

Robert narrows his eyes. "I could defeat you with my eyes closed."

"Then prove it."

Robert grips his ax in one hand, a smug smirk on his face, taking an experimental swing towards Eddara, who easily dodges.

Thirty seconds later, the Baratheon boy is panting on the ground, a steel blade at his throat. "Do you yield, Ser?" Eddara has to work to stifle her laugh.

"Bloody hell, how did you-"

"I've been training with swords since I was four, my lord. Northern women are not like your southern lasses; we have wills of iron."

Robert seems to be getting over his initial anger and embarassment, and now seems more amused than anything. "Well, you are certainly different from the ladies at Storm's End."

"If you want, I could teach you the maneuver I used to disarm you. It's difficult, but it's useful. My older brother showed it to me, before my father told him to stop training my younger sister and I."

He grins. "I'd like that. What do they call you back in Winterfell anyway? Eddara is a bit long."

"My sister and brothers call me Ned."

Robert shakes his head. "Ned it is, then. I'll tell you what, you're far better company than that Elbert Arryn fellow."

Eddara smiles. If nothing else, atleast she'd made a new friend.

*********************

Adjusting to the Eyrie isn't as difficult as she had originally thought it would be. The castle is haunting and mysterious, making it fun to explore. She has lessons with her septa, but in the Vale, there is an emphasis on honor and valor that Jon Arryn embodies every time he comes to see her. 

She spends much of her free time reading in the dusty library, and instead of the fair ladies, it is the knights that capture her interest, Ser Duncan the Tall and Ser Barristan Selmy.

Robert and Ned become almost inseperable in the months to come. Since Ned spends every waking minute avoiding Elbert, she decides to spend her time with Robert instead, exploring the dimly lit network of tunnels and passageways carved into the mountains of the Vale, around the high castle. The castle itself is large and spacious, but also gloomy and isolated.

Ned absolutely loves looking over the Vale from the spires of the Eyrie's tallest towers. She loves going down to the villages as well, seeing the commoners and their shops as Robert drags her from one whorehouse to another. 

Although that isn't really fair to her new friend, who also likes visiting the blacksmith and going to the outskirts of the village, and attempts to climb the gigantic mountains that surround the Eyrie.

Ned laughs and pokes fun, but it's not long after that she joins Robert in his impossible quest. They hardly get five feet off the ground before losing their grip and falling flat on their butts. Robert simply lets out a booming laugh and runs back to the Eyrie, Eddara hot on his heels.

It's nice having someone her own age that isn't family to play with. Eddara's solemn and reserved nature ensures that she is always lacking in the friends department, and even her boisterous siblings occasionally forget that she is in their presence.

Robert is different though. He is her opposite in every way. While she is quiet, he is deafening; while she is serious, he is frivolous and lighthearted. Nevertheless, he never seems to forget about her or dismiss her the way others do. There is still an intrinsic connection between them, both having lost parents at a young age.

Robert laughs at all her jokes too, although she seldom makes any. He is never bothered by her introspective nature, and he talks enough for the both of them. Best of all, whenever he was around, Eddara finds herself breaking out of her shell.

He makes her laugh and curse and cry with his antics; life with Robert Baratheon is never boring. Especially when he helps her sneak out of her lessons with her septa, and they go to the training yard instead to practice with tourney lances, axes, swords, and a variety of other weapons. 

Perhaps the one thing Eddara hadn't liked was Robert's philandering. He has no shortage of whores, and she even sees his bastard daughter once. "Her name's Mya, isn't she a precious little thing?" Robert chuckles, tossing the baby and catching her as she giggles in delight.

Eddara is uncomfortable at first. As a woman, she certainly wouldn't want her husband to father a child out of wedlock, not to mention her strict adherence to a code of honor. Gradually, though, she too grows fond of Mya. Bastard or not, she is still a girl, and deserves to be treated kindly, for it is through no mistake of her own that she came into the world.

There is no denying that Robert is good to Mya as well.

That is when an idea strikes Eddara. She writes to Rickard, informing him of Robert's prowess and his suitability as a husband, especially considering he was heir to the Stormlands.

_He would be perfect for Lya. He'd be a loving father to his children, and Robert lets me secretly fight and train with him all the time, regardless of the fact that I'm a lady. Not to mention, their personalities match perfectly. He's the knight that Lyanna's always wanted._

Rickard responds within a fortnight, agreeing to talk to Robert and his regent in the Stormlands to arrange the betrothal.

Robert is excited about the match, and he asks Ned to tell him everything she knows about her little sister. She responds enthusiastically, telling Robert of Lyanna's grace and beauty, but also of her fierceness and her will of iron. "When you see her, Robert, you'll know that you've met your match."

With that, she knocks the ax out of his hand with a single arrow, and he chases her around the pavilion. Robert is slower than usual though, and both are a bit melancholy, for it is their last day together in the Vale. Tomorrow, both lord and lady will return home.

If only the simple days of childhood lasted forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my wonderful readers: If you enjoyed what you read, please leave kudos or comments so that I know if I should continue this. I already have a second chapter in the works, but I’m not sure if I should continue the fic. If you have any suggestions to improve the story, feel free to leave that in a comment as well(as long as it’s constructive and not just flames)!


	2. Harrenhal

Winterfell comes into view, and Eddara is practically dangling off the boat in her rush to catch a glimpse of her home. As soon as the boat docks, she leaps out, water splashing her ankles as she runs towards her family. Brandon, now twenty years old and betrothed, is as wild as ever. Black stubble is visible on his chin, his mane of hair is thick, and there is a wildness on his gaze as he looks upon Eddara, spinning her around like he did all those years ago when she first left. "Ned! It's good to have you back."

She hugs Benjen next, Benjen who is now a teenager, a child no longer. "Oh Benjen! Look at how much you've grown." Benjen puffs his chest out proudly and shows her his arm muscles. Eddara, humouring her little brother, claps in delight.

Last but not least, there is Lyanna. "Oh Lya," Eddara sighs, and takes her little sister into her arms. Lyanna does not have Brandon's strength, but she has his fierceness, and she nearly squeezes the life out of her older sister. "Ned, I've missed you so much."

Lyanna has only grown more beautiful with time. Her ebony hair tumbles down her back in tangled, yet elegant curls. Her skin is pale, making her rosy cheeks stand out, and her blue-grey eyes are brighter than ever. Lyanna has morphed into a woman with sharp cheekbones and dainty features, but Eddara still recognizes her wolf sister.

"Come on, Ned! You've missed so much."

Eddara spends the rest of her time at Winterfell, getting re-acquainted with her old home. She loves the warmth that Winterfell embodies, loves riding her horse with Lyanna, who seems to be half-horse herself, taking a stroll down Wintertown, running through the heaps of snow and watching crystalized icicles fall and shatter from the treetops.

It's nice to see the servants again as well, not to mention the few friends that Eddara had left behind, such as Jory Cassel. He's a fine swordsman now(but still not as good as her). Her tradition of running off to the godswood to practice in secret continues, and for a time, Eddara falls back into her old routine.

It is all disrupted by the Tourney of Harrenhal.

****************

 _It will be the finest tourney in all of Westeros,_ the maids whisper. Lord Whent has spent a fortune.

It will be a spectacle, a grand event to brighten the "year of the false spring," as the smallfolk have started to call it.

Rickard chooses to stay behind, for "there must always be a Stark at Winterfell," and he sends his children in his stead. All of them are excited to make the journey. Lyanna is ecstatic to finally witness an actual tourney, having dreamt of participating in one for years. Benjen wants to see the Kingsguard, and Brandon will be meeting his betrothed before the wedding ceremony in a year.

They all relentlessly tease Brandon about it, but he just grumbles and waves them off.

Eddara is the only one that isn't euphoric about the tourney. She's never had much interest in a tournament where men basically just hit each other with sticks for fun. She'd much rather stay in Winterfell, but atleast she'll see Robert at the tourney.

Lyanna is oddly quiet when Eddara brings up her betrothed. At first, Eddara thinks that Lyanna just opposes marriage on principle, just like when they were girls, and she attempts to cheer up her little sister by informing her that father is already sending ravens to Jon Arryn, arranging her betrothal to Elbert, whose head was so big it was a miracle it fit on his body.

It becomes clear that it's Robert that Lyanna has a problem with, though. "They say he's already fathered a bastard in the Vale, Ned. How can I expect a man like that to stay loyal to me?"

Ned squirms, unsure how to address the issue, especially since she's seen Mya and grown fond of the girl. It surprises her, to hear Lya talk in such a manner about an innocent girl, but then she is reminded that most of Westeros does not share her views on bastards. "He'll love you, Lyanna, and he'll never mistreat you. That's more respect than a lot of other husbands would give their wives."

Lyanna says nothing, only shooting Eddara a slightly contemptuous look, and Eddara can envision the rift that is forming between them, the beginning of a tear in their bond. It doesn't last, though, as Lyanna's feelings of rapture overshadow it, and the two girls quickly become thick as thieves once more.

***************

After days of riding, Harrenhal comes into view. The castle itself seems to be more fit for a giant than a human, and it is easily ten times the size of Winterfell. The castle's colossal curtain walls were topped with jagged pieces of stone that looked as small as mice from where Eddara was sitting.

The towers were a bit crude, made of fractured and discolored stone. They were little more than lumps of shapeless stone, yet the entire structure still had a foreboding air.

Banners and tents were already set up all around the great castle, rippling in the wind. The bright colors of the tents were blinding, and the aroma of meats was slightly nauseating, so Ned chose to instead observe the people who had arrived at Harrenhal before them.

There were over a hundred knights and lords from almost every corner of Westeros, eager for the chance to win glory and gold from the affluent Lord Whent. Their silver armor gleamed in the sunlight as they walked across the premises, preparing for the tournament.

Ladies from all across the realm had accompanied their lord-fathers, eying potential husbands or a betrothed. A gaggle of girls, draped in rich velvet gowns from Lorath, giggled as a particularly handsome boy walked in front of them. The golden haired youth payed no attention to them, running to catch up to another blonde woman, who was easily the most beautiful girl Ned had ever seen. The two were Lannisters, from the looks of it.

While the decorations were splendid, Eddara disliked the pageantry of it all, as she rode alongside her siblings on the cobblestone path. It was all too gaudy, and frankly a little pointless. Everyone was only there to serve their own self-interest after all, from Lord Whent who wished to boast of his gigantic castle to anyone who would listen, to the high lords who fought for fame.

"NED!" Robert Baratheon waved her over from a few tents away. A few passing knights shot him strange looks, but he didn't care, and neither did Eddara, as she steered her horse towards him, galloping at full speed.

She got off her steed and ran over to Robert, who hugged her excitedly. "It's good to see you again, Ned. You have to practice with me before the big melee. Wait, is that your sister?"

Robert gave Lyanna, who had followed Eddara and was now dismounting her horse, a look that can only be described as awestruck. "She's even more beautiful than I imagined."

Lyanna seemed discomfited by Robert's stare, but she smiled nonetheless. "You must be Robert. I'm Lyanna. Err, it's a pleasure to meet you, my lord." Lyanna bent over slightly in a gesture that would barely qualify as a curtsy, but Robert didn't seem to be put off by it, choosing to bow in return and flash her a charming smile. "The pleasure is all mine, my lady."

Ned, too, felt a little perturbed by Robert's abnormal behavior. She knew he flirted with other women, but she had never really seen it up close, and an awkward silence fell over the group.

It was broken by Brandon, who squeezed himself through Lyanna and Eddara before shaking Robert's hand firmly. "So you're my little sister's betrothed, eh? Treat her well." Ned rolled her eyes. Brandon was always so relaxed around Benjen, yet so protective about his younger sisters that it was a little ridiculous.

There was a slight warning in Brandon's tone when he spoke to the other boy, but it dissipated when Robert solemnly stated that he would, and both of them promptly dissolved into laughter, talking about which knights they were placing their bets on to win the tourney.

"It'll be Ser Barristan, without a doubt."

"Have you seen Ser Arthur?"

Ned and Lyanna leave them to it, going with Benjen to set up their tents with their guards. The grey tent was drab, surrounded by an amalgamation of color, but neither of the Starks really minded all that much.

Benjen went off to find Brandon, while Lyanna and Eddara decided to explore on their own. Of course, they ran into trouble almost immediately after they stepped outside their tent.

Three young squires, their faces set in cruel smiles, were kicking a boy into the dirt. Ned caught a glimpse of a bronze scaled shirt, and the green sigil of House Reed on the sleeve.

Lyanna's face flushed red with fury as she stomped forward, grabbing an idle tourney sword laying on the ground, Ned hot on her heels.

"That's my father's man you're kicking!"

She swung the sword, and while all three squires were able to dodge the blow, the experimental strike is enough to send them running back to their tents.

"Cowards." Lya scowled.

"Are you all right?" Ned bent down and helped the young man up. He's short, but the wisdom in his eyes belied his true age. He was a man-grown, clearly.

His brown hair was cut short, and his deep jade eyes peered up at her grey ones as he nodded in affirmation. "I'm Howland Reed."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Howland. I'm Eddara Stark, and this is Lyanna, my sister. Come back to our tent with us. I'm a good healer; I can clean your cuts."

They took him back to their tent, and Lyanna's simmering rage cooled down somewhat. Ned carefully wrapped the bandage around Howland Reed's arm, whose cheeks flushed an interesting shade of maroon under Eddara's attentive gaze.

"Thank you, both of you. For helping me with the squires, and cleaning my wounds. You didn't have to, truly, I'm ashamed that I even needed the help."

"Nonsense. We weren't about to let those foolish squires kick our vassal lord in the dirt," Lyanna waved off the apology, grinning at Howland, who winced slightly at her words.

_Oh, Lya. The feeling of self-worth in men and women is a fragile thing. I fear you've offended Howland without even knowing it._

"Don't feel embarassed, Howland, it was three against one. I'm sure you would've been the victor had it been a fair fight. As for the cuts, don't even worry about it. It's always a pleasure to run into a crannogman. House Stark greatly appreciates the loyalty that House Reed has demonstrated over the years." She shot Howland a kindly smile, and he returns it, just as Brandon and Benjen entered through the tent flap.

"What's going on? Who is this?" Brandon narrowed his eyes at the stranger and his close proximity to Eddara, but Lyanna spoke up, "This is Howland Reed, Brandon. He's our father's vassal lord." Patiently, she explained how they found him.

"Well, you girls did the right thing. I'm Brandon, and this is Benjen." The four of them stayed in the tent for the rest of the day, engaging Howland Reed in conversation as he discussed his impression of the tourney and described his journey from the Isle of the Faces.

"Do you have a place to stay, Howland?"

"I'm afraid not, my lady."

"No matter, you can stay with Brandon or Benjen in their tent!" Eddara declared, already having taken a shine to this odd little man from the Neck, who might be even more quiet and somber than her.

"My lady, I wouldn't want to impose..."

"Nonsense, they won't mind. And you can call me Ned, Howland, everyone does." Eddara watched in amusement as Howland flushed again before nodding.

Lyanna and Eddara went to their tent to get ready after convincing Howland to attend the feast with them. They dressed in beautiful blue cotton gowns, with roses embroidered onto Lya's dress, and a wolf design on Ned's. Together, with Benjen and Brandon, who wears a bearskin cape, they entered the Hall of a Hundred Hearths.

***************

It is the grandest hall Eddara has ever seen, large enough to fit an entire army. An array of tables for seating is visible alongside the walls, and vibrant tapestries hang all around the hall.

Ned looks curiously at a golden harp stationed in the middle of the gathering. Before she can ponder it for too long, a trumpet blast cuts through the air, announcing the arrival of the king.

Ned turns around and gasps in shock, along with everyone else in the hall. Saying the king hadn't aged well would be the understatement of the century. His long, yellowing fingernails almost touch the ground as he walks, slightly hunched over. His mane of tangled silver hair only accentuates his eccentric mannerisms, as the wisps of hair of his beard fall off his chin like floating clouds.

"Well, I don't typically put much stock in rumors, but goodness he certainly looks mad, doesn't he?"

Eddara elbows her brother in the stomach. Brandon was so dense sometimes. His mouth would get him in trouble one of these days, she was sure of it.

"Ser Jaime Lannister!" The king calls out in a rasping voice. The blonde boy that Ned had spotted earlier steps forward, wearing a maroon and gold tunic, head held high in confidence, despite coming face to face with the most reviled man in all seven kingdoms.

"My king." Jaime drops to his knee in front of the king, inclining his head in respect. Eddara had to hand it to the lad, he hadn't even flinched once. It felt strange to look upon him now, knowing that he had once been considered as an option for her betrothal.

 _He still is an option if the negotiations with Jon Arryn fall through, a dark voice reminds her,_ and Ned's skin prickles.

"Ser Jaime, will you fullfill your duties as a knight to the fullest? Will you ward for the king with all your strength, give your blood for his..." Ned watches in amazement as Jaime nods and says "Yes" to each phrase Aerys throws at him. The entire hall is silent; you could hear the crickets chirping.

"Rise, Ser Jaime Lannister, knight of the kingsguard." Aerys knights Ser Jaime, only fifteen summers, on the spot, as Ser Gerold Hightower drapes a white cloak over his sworn brother's shoulders.

A loud, raucous cheer echoes through the hall, and many people clap. Ned isn't surprised. While the king himself is unpopular, Ser Jaime is quite handsome and reputed for his bravery in combat, popular amongst nobles and smallfolk alike.

The crowd disperses for the king, who sits at the high table with Lord Whent. The Silver Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, trails behind him, taking the time to acknowledge various lords before making his way towards his father.

All the men and women in the room, even Lyanna, stop and stare at the fair prince as he goes by. He has a much better reputation than his father, winning the adoration of the smallfolk and nobles alike through his gift for songs and the scholarly arts, as well as his kindness towards his people and prowess with a blade.

Eddara wouldn't call Rhaegar handsome; with his violet eyes and white hair, neatly braided, the prince could be more accurately be described as beautiful. He was certainly a striking visage, especially compared to his father, so Ned would give him that, but her attention lingers on the lovely golden harp that stood in the middle of the room.

To her surprise, Rhaegar turns sharply and sits down on a stool next to the harp. The hall goes silent once more as everyone takes a seat, straining to hear the melody.

The prince starts off slowly, playing a haunting, sorrowful melody that brings tears to many a lady's eye. Even the men in the room are taken by Rhaegar's music, listening intently to the harmony, moisture collecting in their eyes which they later decide to blame on the wine. Lyanna too, cries upon hearing the forlorn song.

Eddara? Eddara yawns and promptly falls asleep.

It's not that it's _bad,_ per se, but the entire thing is just too dreary and slow-paced for her liking. Seriously, a snail would've probably crossed the entire hall ten times over before Rhaegar was done with his song.

She's awoken by the splash of wine as it hits her arm, dripping down the side of the table and staining the chartreuse carpet. "Lyanna!" Benjen cries out in fury, his hair and tunic sopping wet, stained with the Dornish wine.

"You deserved it!" Lya yells back, calmly putting the goblet down. Ned watches with merriment as Lyanna wipes a few tears from her pale cheeks. "Lyanna, are those tea-"

"Don't, Ned." Lya gives her a warning glance, and Eddara puts her hands up in surrender. The last thing she wants to do was provoke her sister's ire.

With that, the opening ceremony commences.

***************

The king sits on a chair at the table at the end of the hall, far away and removed from the crowd.

Robert attempts to dance with Eddara, but they both end up stepping on each other's feet far too many times to call it a proper dance. "Robert, stop, we're both absolutely horrid," Ned finally says, releasing his hand as they collapse into their chairs, chuckling.

Brandon shakes his head. "Just what has Jon Arryn been teaching you, Ned?"

"Whatever the old fellow taught you, it's certainly not dancing," Robert remarks.

Eddara shoves him as he and Brandon laugh at her expense. "Shut up! You're hardly any better."

"My lady, may I have the honor?" Lya approaches their table after giving Benjen a good scolding, and Robert immediately stands up to greet her, the picture of a perfect gentleman, his hand stretched out in a silent invitation.

Lyanna accepts, her smile tight as they spin on the dance floor. She winces as Eddara's best friend steps on her toes, before deciding that two can play at that game and starts stepping on _his_ toes, but Robert barely notices as he shoots Ned a thumbs up, looking at Lyanna adoringly in his arms.

Ned takes a drink from her cup, nearly draining it. It's going to be a long night.

Lya all but ignores Robert for the rest of the ceremony, who, after the dance, had gone off to compete in some sort of drinking game. Ned feels a little guilty, for the match had been her idea in the first place, but in any case she's happy that Lya isn't mad at her.

Lyanna is still, after all this time, her best friend, closer to her than even Robert. The two girls are warriors in a man's world, and they've stuck together ever since they were little. When Lyanna fell sick from a terrible fever once, it is Eddara who stayed with her all through the night, refusing to sleep for three days straight until her sister got better. When Eddara started practicing in secret in the godswood, it is Lyanna who kept her secret from father, and it is Lyanna who taught her to become a better horserider.

Ned simply cannot imagine her life without Lya in it.

She's about to take another drink when she notices a little boy slipping out of the hall, crying softly. Alarmed, she decides to follow him.

"Boy! Wait! It's dangerous to be out here on your own."

The boy turns, and it doesn't take long for Eddara to figure out who he truly is, with the blonde hair and features of a dwarf. Tyrion Lannister, Tywin's heir now, since Jaime was a knight of the kingsguard.

"I want to be alone," the boy sniffles, wiping at his eyes. "Away from my horrid sister. Why does everyone prattle over her anyway? She might look as golden as the sun, but Cersei's so cold-hearted the Mad King would be jealous."

Eddara chortles. "You're quite the little jester, aren't you? I'm guessing your sister upset you somehow."

"Something like that."

Ned sighs, before kneeling down so that she is Tyrion's height. "I understand what it's like to be teased for something you cannot help, and to want to be alone. As a matter of fact, I spend a great deal of my time alone, but this is the grandest tourney in all of Westeros. Don't let your older sister ruin this for you, alright little one? Don't let her win."

"But everyone will laugh at me. Everyone _always_ laughs at me."

"You are a Lannister, are you not? Lions are fierce, dear Tyrion, and their roar is mighty. Represent your house with pride, and do not let the taunts get to you, or I'm afraid you'll never be happy. Besides, from this conversation alone, I have discerned a great deal of your positive traits, your cleverness being chief among them."

Tyrion beams up at her, taking her hand in his as they walk back to the hall together. "Thank you, Lady Stark."

"Tyrion! Where are you?" The doors open to reveal a frazzled Jaime Lannister, who sighs in relief upon laying eyes on his little brother. "Thank goodness you're alright, I couldn't find you anywhere. Oh, thank you for bringing him back, Lady... um..."

"Lady Eddara Stark," Ned supplies, smiling kindly at the pair. "It was no trouble at all, I assure you. Congratulations on your appointment, Ser Jaime. I'm sure you'll be an invaluable addition to the Kingsguard."

"Thank you, Lady Stark." Jaime gallantly offers her his arm, and she takes it, allowing him to lead her back to the hall. The unease that she previously felt around the knight is gone, safe in the knowledge that he is a member of a brotherhood sworn to chastity.

"Seriously? You couldn't tell she was a Stark? She has wolves all over her dress, Jaime!"

"Shut up, Tyrion." Jaime playfully ruffles his brother's hair with his free hand, and Ned chuckles, amused by their antics.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Ser Jaime. Lord Tyrion." Ned awkwardly curtsies before joining the others at her table, grinning at Howland Reed. The pensive man surprises her by asking for a dance. He was quite fleet-footed, spinning a laughing Eddara around easily, and she, in turn, manages to avoid stepping on his foot, before curtysing(it was really more of a bow) and thanking him for the dance.

In the corner of her eye, Ned could see Lyanna speaking to Prince Rhaegar, beaming as he dances with her, but they were off to the side, so most people didn't even notice them unless they were specifically looking like Ned was. Eddara narrows her eyes, unsure of the Prince's intentions, but ultimately decides that it was just a dance, after all. Besides, Princess Elia didn't look concerned at all, as she was busy dancing with her brother, Oberyn Martell.

Elia is very graceful, if a bit pale and delicate-looking. Nevertheless, Ned is sure that she and Rhaegar would be marvelous rulers one day. She sees Robert holding Cersei next to them and does a double take. Well, she definitely hadn't seen that coming.

Elia's companion, Ashara Dayne, is dancing with Ser Barristan. Although, she changes partners for the last waltz, swaying to the music with none another than Brandon Stark. Internally groaning, Eddara prays that her older brother wouldn't do anything stupid. Brandon always did have a weakness for gorgeous women. _Well, actually, they had a weakness for him._

Lyanna is dancing with Rhaegar again, but before she can contemplate it further, a man clears his throat behind her. "Well, our siblings are dancing together. Shall we do the same, Lady Stark?"

Ned nearly faints. Standing in front of her is Ser Arthur Dayne, in the flesh and blood, the greatest kingsguard of his generation. His lilac tunic blends well with his snow colored cloak, bringing out his dark violet-brown eyes.

She nods, too nervous for words, and takes his outstretched palm in her own as he leads her onto the dancing area. At first, she is too focused on not stepping on his toes to make any conversation. However, she quickly realizes that she needs to say something, otherwise she'll come off as the typical dithering fool, all moony-eyed for the finest knight in the realm.

"How did you defeat the Smiling Knight in single combat?"

Ser Arthur looks surprised by the question. Eddara supposes that most girls merely pay him compliments about his valor and courage, but he still answers her.

"Well, his fighting style was quite brutal, and he was heavy on the offensive, but weaker on the defense, so I used an old technique taught to me by a water dancer of Braavos, where-" suddenly, the knight cut off. "I'm sorry, my lady, are you sure you want to hear this? It must sound terribly boring."

"Not at all! Please continue, and feel free to be as detailed as possible. I'm a great admirer of your fighting style. It took me a year to master the maneuver they say you used against the Kingswood Brotherhood the first time you came across them."

Arthur looks even more confused. "You fight? With a sword? I thought women didn't do that up north."

Ned frowns. "I think you'd be suprised by what women can do, Ser Arthur," she replies sharply, before gasping in horror. "No, I didn't mean- my apologies, that was unladylike-"

To her relief, Arthur laughs. "You forget, I grew up in Starfall, and Dorne is my homeland. Women fight just as well as the men there, and in no way am I doubting your capabilites, Lady Stark."

With that, Ser Arthur finishes his story of the Smiling Knight, going over the swordfighting techniques he employed in painstaking detail, Eddara hanging onto every word and taking note of it. Goodness, she'd probably learnt more from one conversation with Ser Arthur than all her septas combined.

"Thank you for dancing with me, Lady Stark. A knight is always honest, so I must confess, my fellow kingsguard and the prince pushed me to dance with atleast one fair maiden tonight. I am glad it was you, though. Something tells me there is a lot more to you than meets the eye, Eddara Stark." Ser Arthur kisses her hand as the waltz ends, the paragon of chivalry, as he leaves and walks over to Rhaegar, who is exiting the hall with Elia by his side.

Forget _Rhaegar._ Arthur Dayne was the most gallant knight Ned had ever met.

***************

She makes her way back to the tent, skipping ever so slightly. Lyanna's already changed into her nightclothes, and for the first time, her sister has a dreamy look on her face.

"Lyanna? Are you alright?"

"Have you ever gotten the feeling, Ned, when you're with someone, that time just stops? Like you could talk for hours and hours, and be exactly who you are, without worrying about anything else? Without being treated like an object, or some imbecilic fool meant to smile prettily and pop out babes?"

Eddara blinks. Perhaps her younger sister needs an appointment with Maester Luwin. "Lyanna, are you feeling alright?"

"Never better."

She opens her mouth to question her further when Brandon stumbles in through the flap, heavily drunk. Ned can smell the wine in his breath from across the tent.

"Brother?"

"Oh, Ned, you should've seen her. She looked so beautiful in the moonlight, Ashara Dayne. I swear, that one- to the most beautiful woman in Westeros!" Brandon raises his wine cup, snickering like a teenager instead of a grown man.

It hits Eddara then, what Brandon must have done. She moves without thinking, filled with fury, and gives him a ringing slap on the cheek that echoes in the tent.

"How dare you! You are the heir to Winterfell, how dare you dishonor that poor woman! You will go back Brandon Stark, and you will apologize for the grief you have caused her-"

"Don't tell me what to do, Ned!" Brandon straightens up, incensed, overcoming his initial shock at being struck by little sister. "You and your fricking honor, I wish you'd left that in the Vale! I'm the heir of Winterfell, and I'll be damned if I let you push me around-"

Ned shoves him hard, trying to knock some sense into her brother. Unfortunately, this only serves to infuriate her brother even more. She can see the wolf's blood in his eyes as he throws a punch towards the sister he swore to protect. Eddara is quick on her feet and dodges the blow to the face, so it lands on her arm instead, leaving a discolored bruise.

Brandon raises his fist again, and Ned clenches her hands together, readying herself for a fight. However, it never comes to that, as Benjen bursts into the tent, and with Lyanna's help, they pry the two of them apart.

"Ned, that's enough!" Lya grabs her sister around the stomach, pulling her back as Brandon is pushed out of the girls' tent. "Why did you do that?" Lyanna asks, flabbergasted.

"You heard what he did."

"But you've never hit anyone, Ned, much less instigate a fight. Goodness, and I thought I had a temper."

"Nothing is more important than honor and duty, Lya. How will he be a good lord if he does not know these things?"

"It's _Brandon,_ Eddara. Cut him some slack." With that, Lyanna lays down to sleep. Eddara was hardly surprised that Lyanna defended Brandon. The two had always been so close, much closer than her and Brandon, and they had never truly been able to find fault within one another.

Ned takes a deep breath before settling down next to her little sister. They talk for a little bit, avoiding anything to do with Brandon entirely, discussing the upcoming tourney and melee, as well as who the best dancers had been at the feast they had just attended.

Eventually, Lyanna falls asleep, and it is just Ned, who stares up at the roof of the tent. If she squints, she can faintly make out the stars above her, and the faint outline of a crescent moon.

If Eddara had known of all the trouble that would follow, perhaps she would've stayed up longer, holding onto the peaceful moment for as long as she could. If she had known that that day would be the last truly normal day she ever had, she would've savored the moment.

But Eddara Stark didn't know any of that. So instead, she falls asleep to the sound of her mother's voice, singing one last lullaby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT AUTHOR’S NOTE, PLEASE READ!
> 
> So I added in Howland Reed, who originally wasn't going to be in this story! What do you guys think of him? Also lol, Eddara literally finds the harp, an inanimate object, more interesting than Rhaegar at this point, while everyone else looks at him like he's already the king. Just curious, what are everybody's opinions on Rhaegar in canon? He's a bit of an enigma, isn't he?
> 
> Also, lots of ships are possible at this point. I wrote the fic with one ship in mind, but now I'm debating between a few. Your thoughts?
> 
> Lastly I wrote a new summary for this story using an excerpt from the last chapter, but I’m not sure if it’s better than the old one:
> 
> _Brandon screams and Lyanna wails, while an Eddara who should have been born an Eddard stays silent, tears streaming down the face of Ned Stark as she stares at her unmoving mother. But they are Starks. Their blood is ice, and they can survive anything the snows throw at them._
> 
> _Appropriately, it is fire that ultimately tears them apart._
> 
> What do you think of the new summary? Better or worse than the current one?
> 
> I’ve decided to continue this story, but I could really use all the feedback I can get! Please me what you guys think of the chapter with kudos or a comment so that I know people are still interested, and I know I threw a lot of questions at you in the A/N, but I’d be grateful if you could answer those in a comment too.
> 
> UP NEXT: The Knight of the Laughing Tree makes an appearance


	3. Queen of Love and Beauty

"Ned! Ned, wake up!"

Eddara groaned, instinctively yanking on her sister's hair, who hissed in pain. "Hey! Keep your hands to yourself."

"Lya? What in Winterfell's name are we doing up at this ungodly hour?"

"Well, I was talking to Howland Reed."

"Yes, and?"

"And I was trying to convince him to fight the three squires that were beating him up in the lists today, but he does not think he possesses the skills to do it."

"So?"

"So, I got him some armor! What do you think? Will it persuade him to joust the squires?"

Eddara rubbed her eyes, looked at the armor, and did a double take. The armor was rusty at the edges, and calling it "ill-fitted" would be an understatement. The pieces didn't even look like they were all from the same suit of armor, and instead reminded Ned of a haphazard patchwork quilt that she had attempted to knit a few years ago.

"Lyanna, if you couldn't convince him before showing him the armor, there's no way you'll persuade him with _that_."

"Oh, come on!" Lya ended up dragging a half-asleep Ned to Brandon's tent. Thankfully, their brothers were already in the training yard, so Howland Reed stood alone in the tent.

"Ned, you've got to persuade him! Howland, I know you can do it, I believe in you! Those squires deserve to pay for what they've done."

_Oh Lyanna, you just had to be born with wolfsblood in your veins, didn't you? Atleast it's just a touch._

"We have no right to force him Lya." Howland Reed shot her a grateful look as he exited the tent in search of Brandon and Benjen.

Lyanna got a glint in her eye at Ned's words, meeting Eddara's steel eyes with her murky blue-grey ones.

"He doesn't have to joust, but _I_ could."

"Lyanna, no," Eddara said, horrified. "What if you get caught?"

"It'll be worth it, seeing the look on those squire's faces! Come on Ned, help me with these straps."

The older girl shook her head, desperate to avoid her sister from making this stupid mistake. She would have to appeal to Lyanna's desire for vengeance now.

"Lyanna, think about the consequences. Besides, who's to say you'll be able to defeat the squires anyway? They've qualified for the lists, meaning they're skilled, and you haven't held a tourney sword in years. You don't even need to know how to use one, and you're fighting in not just one joust, but three. You'll wear yourself out; those lances are too heavy, and those squires will only get an ego boost from their added victory."

Lyanna froze, pondering the new conundrum. "You're right, it's no fun if I fail."

Suddenly, a wicked gleam appeared in Lya's eyes.

"But I don't think _you'd_ fail, Ned."

All the blood drained out of her face. "Absolutely not."

"Come on! I know you've been training with Robert at the Vale, it's practically the only substantial thing he talked about when we danced together. You've held tourney lances for hours, not to mention you're an excellent horse rider, almost as good as me. Except you actually know how to joust! We'll be careful, Ned, you'll enter as a mystery knight."

"Lya, the risk is too great."

"Think about Howland. Nice, gentle Howland Reed, kicked into the dirt by those squires. They are unworthy of their sigils, Ned. Shouldn't these dishonourable fools be punished before they are allowed to become foolish knights, undeserving of the title?"

Damn it. Apparently Lya knew her weaknesses just as well as Ned knew hers.

***************

"For the record, this is a very bad idea."

Lyanna adjusted Ned's armor one final time, handing her the lance. "Well, it won't fit any better than that."

"Wait, what about my shield?"

"Oh! I forgot. I have a shield, but what shall you use as a sigil?"

"... Well, I did spend a lot of time practicing in the godswood, so what about a weirwood tree? With the smiling face on it."

"Good idea! You'll be the Knight of the Laughing Tree," Lyanna flourished her lance dramatically, and both of the girls burst into giggles. Ned couldn't deny, this was fun, and the threat of danger sent a thrill-seeking rush in her veins. Was this how Lyanna and Brandon felt everytime they broke the rules?

Painting the tree didn't take long at all, especially since Lya seemed to have a hidden artistic talent.

"Kick them in the dust, Ned." Lya offered one final hug to her sister before joining their brothers in the tourney stands. If everything had gone as planned, and Eddara had not had Lyanna for a sister, then she would be there as well, actually enjoying the jousts, for all their pageantry that Eddara reviled so much, instead of sweating in the pits, anxiety building in her stomach.

The announcer called her name, and Ned mounted her stallion, steadying her lance. Her heart must've been racing a thousand miles a minute as she first made contact with the other squire's shield. One more tilt, and the squire was down.

Ned pumped her fist in the air, elated at her victory. She still thought tourneys were pointless things, but... she supposes there is a certain appeal to it, a certain thrill from finally being allowed to participate in a tournament that excluded her solely on basis of gender, and from winning her first competition.

Although, this is more for her friend from the Neck than anyone else.

People cheered as Eddara rode back to the pits, throwing flower petals at her, which she found quite amusing. Other lords eyed her warily and whispered about the enigmatic knight, the first and only mystery knight in the tournament so far.

The second squire went down even easier than the first. All those years training with Robert finally paid off.

The dust settled, and the last squire approached. A knight of House Frey. He urged his horse forward, and both he and Ned broke their lances in the first tilt.

This squire was the most skilled, and the hardest one to beat. Yet, Eddara had always believed in karma, and her victory over the squire in the fourth tilt only reinforced her beliefs. She chose to move her lance slightly upwards, and the squire hit the ground, the crowd roaring in approval, curious about this mystery knight.

Ned took a moment, letting it all sink in. All her life, she's been laughed at and scorned.

"Rickard Stark's wild, plain faced elder daughter. She acts as if she is a man, not a woman. Doesn't have the personality, doesn't have the looks. Woe be the man who has to marry her," the ladies had snickered.

Yet, here she stood, with hundreds of smallfolk and nobles, screaming her moniker. Yelling their praise for all of Harrenhal to hear, the princes, lords, and ladies alike. For the first time in her life, Eddara Stark felt like herself. She was a knight, one who defended her friend's honor, just as she had always dreamed of doing when she was young.

She was _free._

The trio of knights who the squires serve stepped forward to negotiate for their horses and the property Eddara had won from them in the tourney. The sound of their encroaching footsteps broke Eddara out of her reverie, and she waved them away.

"Teach your rude squires some respect, sers, and teach them the meaning of honor while you're at it. That is all I ask of you." Her voice boomed through the helmet, and she took her time trotting across the field.

She wished this moment could last forever, the moment when she felt as heroic as Duncan the Tall.

Of course, it doesn't.

"Seize that knight!" A harsh voice cut through the din, sounding an awful lot like nails scratching across granite. King Aerys.

Her heart thumped erratically, and Eddara spurred her bistre horse onwards. There were knights chasing her, that much Ned could tell. White cloaks appeared at the edge of her vision at the bottom of the hill, followed by a silver haired man atop a raven colored mare with a red saddle.

Aegon's beard. The king had sent the prince and the kingsguard after her.

Her armor shook in the wind as her horse raced to the woods. She entered the thicket, and she didn't bring her stallion to a stop until the sound of horse hooves is no longer audible. Eddara had lost them.

Sighing in relief, Ned dismounted and sent the horse off on its merry way. She couldn't exactly show up back at the tents with it, and the poor beast deserved a few moments of freedom before its inevitable capture.

Eddara removed the helmet from her head. Strands of her brittle, chocolate colored hair stuck to her forehead, beaded in sweat. Atleast she had been sensible enough to wear her hair in a ponytail to keep it from sticking to the back of her neck.

Carefully, she absconded with the armor, and decided to bury it. Now, what to do with the shield...

"Lady Stark?"

Ned whipped around, coming face to face with none other than Rhaegar Targaryen himself.

***************

The prince is shocked, that much Ned can tell. His violet eyes are taking her in, slowly, but he has made no movements to come any closer.

She must be a sight, Eddara realizes. Sweaty, muddy from digging a hole in the dirt for the armor, dressed in breeches and an oversized shirt she'd "borrowed" from Brandon. A true lady, indeed.

Rhaegar Targaryen, in contrast, is dressed like a prince. His silver hair is neatly tied back, unlike Ned's messy ponytail. His clothes were made of Lysene silk in the color of the rising sun, paired with dark leather boots.

Taking advantage of the prince's momentary surprise, she turns on her heels and runs. She's heard stories of the Mad King's favorite method of execution, and she'd rather live in the woods like a wildling than be burned to a crisp.

Unfortunately, Rhaegar is not as stunned as he looks. He chases her through the forest, calling her name, but she doesn't pay any attention. Finally, Ned trips over a gnarled tree root and goes sprawling over the autumn leaves.

A hand grips her waist and gently picks her up. "Lady Stark, are you alright?"

Ned brushes his hand off her. "Get away from me!"

"I'm afraid I cannot, my lady." He grabs hold of her arm, refusing to let go. "Not unless you explain yourself to me first."

"Why does it matter? You'll hand me over to your insane father either way, and we all know what will happen after that."

Rhaegar grimaces. "Believe me, Lady Stark, I have no intention of turning you over to my father. You think I am blind to his cruelty? Or worse, that I share his pathological liking for violence?" There is real anger in his face now, none of the concern that was present previously.

"N-no, your grace. Forgive me, I should not have judged a man I barely know." Ned lowers her head, slightly chastised.

"No, it's fine, I should not have reacted so strongly. Now tell me, what on earth possessed you to become a mystery knight?"

"My friend was beaten and humiliated by those squires. He was not physically strong enough to face them in the lists, so I sought to get justice for him, and teach the trio a lesson in knighthood. I do not regret what I did, Prince Rhaegar. The right choice is hardly ever the easy one." She meets the prince's gaze, eyes filled with boldness, unafraid of his judgement.

"But how did you learn to fight?"

"I taught myself at Winterfell, from books in the castle library, and later in the Vale." The prince looks impressed, and he releases her forearm.

"Well, you defended the honor of your friend, and I certainly won't have you killed for that. Nonetheless, I have to show my father something of the Knight of the Laughing Tree to appease him."

"I've already almost finished burying my armor, but you could give him my shield."

"That'll do."

They walk back to the spot where Ned would finish burying the armor. Then, Rhaegar grabs her shield, and together, they start to trek back to Harrenhal.

"So, you mentioned earlier that you learned to fight from books. Do you read often?" Rhaegar asks in an effort to break the awkward silence.

"It's one of my favorite pastimes, along with swordfighting. I could read Maester Perestan's histories and lore a hundred times over and not get tired of it."

"That's my favorite too," Rhaegar told her, smiling. "I've always been interested in his account of Summerhall."

"You mean that whole business with the prophecy? It's interesting enough, but it all ended rather tragically, didn't it?"

"It did." Rhaegar's eyes become disfocused as he stares off into the horizon, and Eddara can't help but feel like she's seeing the enigmatical prince clearly for the first time. He's more pensive and quiet than she would've expected him to be. He seemed so charismatic with the other lords, back in Harrenhal, but here, he is more solemn and reflective. More like her.

Eddara takes this time to really study Rhaegar, the famed prince, renown for his compassion and gentle demeanor.

"Forgive me, Lady Stark, I was just lost in thought for a moment."

"It's fine, really. I find myself wanting to reflect on my own often, and the forest is the perfect place for it. Quiet, undisturbed."

"Princes are supposed to like fighting and talking, not thinking and reading."

"Ladies are supposed to like singing and knitting, not horse riding and fighting with swords and lances. Yet, here we are," Ned counters.

Rhaegar chuckles. "You know, Lady Stark, I think you are even more audacious than your siblings. You just do a better job of hiding it."

"My prince, but I can't help but notice that you've been calling me 'Lady Stark' for some time now. Do you know my first name?"

The prince flushes. "It seems you are as skilled in the art of perception as you are with a lance. I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"It's quite alright. Most people remember me as Brandon or Lyanna's sister; you wouldn't be the first to not know my name. It's Eddara."

"Lady Eddara Stark. Forgive me, a prince ought to know the name of all his subjects."

"Sounds like a burden."

Rhaegar gives her a strange look. "It is, but it's no excuse for not knowing your name. Especially since you were the only one who slept during my rendition of 'Florian and Jonquil.'"

It was Eddara's turn to blush. "You noticed?"

"You were the only lady sleeping in a hall full of weeping women. Of course I noticed. I don't mind, though, especially since you said singing wasn't your strong suit," Rhaegar jested, and Ned chortled. 

They reach the outskirts of Harrenhal, and Ned knows that they must part ways now, lest people get suspicious.

"Thank you for escorting me, your grace, and for keeping my secret. For what it's worth, my prince-"

"You can call me Rhaegar."

"For what it's worth, Rhaegar, you'll be a better man than your father when you ascend the throne. The entire realm knows it. You are kind and thoughtful towards your subjects, much more than Aerys, and less of a warmonger. You may view that as a weakness or not 'becoming of a prince,' but I think it's your greatest strength."

Rhaegar stares at her for the longest time. "You really are... different, Lady Eddara, for lack of a better term. Thank you. I hope to build a better world, where one day, the smallfolk will not need to fear their king."

Ned turns to leave, but Rhaegar grabs her hand before he goes.

"For the record, Lady Eddara, people might not know your name because you're overshadowed by your siblings, but it doesn't mean your name isn't worth knowing."

Ned shakes her head. "You do not have to console me, Rhaegar. I know I will always be plain of face, especially compared to Lyanna."

"Lyanna is incredibly beautiful, yes... in a traditional way, like a fresh winter rose. But your beauty comes from the steel that lies underneath, my lady. Your kindness, your strength, your resilience. You may not be beautiful, but you are certainly striking, in a way that few others are."

"I- thank you, your grace," Eddara whispers, curtsying deeply, simply because she does not know what else to say. No one has ever said anything like that about her.

"Until we meet again, my lady."

The Silver Prince leaves, holding the shield of the Knight of the Laughing Tree in one hand. She watches his retreating back, slowly making her way back to her tent.

_He will be a great king. The kind men will gladly die for._

If only she'd known then how right she'd been.

***************

"You were fantastic, Ned! Bloody brilliant!" Lyanna squeals, spinning her around.

"Maybe next time those squires will think twice before messing with a northernman." Lya's ever-changing eyes sparkle, turning a dark blue hue. Her excitement is infectious, and Ned finds herself jumping up and down with her.

There would be few moments like these when they both got married, so might as well savor them. She thinks about telling Lyanna about the prince, then decides against it. Rhaegar had agreed not to tell anyone, after all, and Lya would probably be bored by the tale. She always thought that the princes in the fairytales were pompous prats, and the fair princesses should learn to rescue themselves.

Of course, Ned had thought that too... but Rhaegar was different. Just like her.

They prepare themselves for the feast that evening as well, and Eddara takes the time to braid her sister's hair. She takes the front coils of her obsidian hair and curls them into ringlets to frame her lovely face. For all her gripes about ladylike things, Lyanna is particularly picky when it comes to hair.

They enter the hall and take their seats, but Lyanna quickly leaves to dance with some Tyrell. The king's gaze unnerves Ned, and she involuntarily shudders when he glances at her for a few seconds. He turns away, discussing some topic or the other with his Master of Whispers. Varys is another man that Eddara has avoided thus far.

As Ned sat down, she could hear the court gossiping amongst themselves and discussing the jousts that day. There had been tourney matches after hers, but nothing had stirred excitement like the mystery knight. Even now, she can hear people speculating about his identity at the feast.

"Lady Ned, I've been looking for you," Howland Reed whispers softly, sitting next to her. "Thank you, for what you did."

Ned purses her lips, uncomfortable with lying. "Howland, I didn't do anything."

"You were the only one not in the pits, and the only one with the means and motive to enter as a mystery knight. It would take a fool not to put the pieces together."

She sighs. Rhaegar, now Howland. Hopefully, everyone else would not have Reed's deductive skills.

"Not a fool, Howland. You are just incredibly observant. And it was really my pleasure to help. They deserved it. Now, enough of this talk. Tell me more about the Neck. Does Greywater Watch truly move on its own?"

"Ay, my lady. There are many more mysteries than that, when it comes to the Neck."

He proceeds to tell her of hidden trails and passageways around the fortress, through the marshy swamps and bog lands, that the crannogmen utilize frequently.

She listens with interest, until a shadow falls over them both.

It is the prince, dressed in a tunic the color of blood, with a matching golden crown, studded with rubies. "Lady Eddara, may I have this dance?"

A few seats down, Brandon stiffens, glaring at the Targaryen. Howland bows his head in respect, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"Thank you for the invitation, your grace. I'm afraid I must decline, to keep my quiet friend company, but I believe your wife is looking for you. Princess Elia is truly radiant, you must give her my regards."

Rhaegar looks at her, wide eyed, before shaking his head and chuckling. He bows, leaning in slightly and whispering "Refusing the request of a prince for your friend. You never cease to surprise me, my lady. You are right, of course. I should see to Elia."

He makes his way over to his lady wife, who looks considerably cheered up by his prescence. Ned is glad, for they truly do make a lovely couple. She is proud of herself, too, for delivering her statement to Rhaegar with every ounce of dignity she could muster, just as a proper lady should.

"You needn't have turned down the prince, my lady." Howland frowns.

"No, but I wanted to. There are people in this room from all across the realm, Howland, but your stories are by far the most interesting."

Suddenly, Brandon slips into the seat next to her. "You handled that well, Ned. It was right of you to turn him down."

"Thanks."

The silence that follows is stifling. Although Ned almost gets up to ask Robert for a dance, Brandon grabs her hand and apologizes profusely. "I'm sorry, Ned. The fight we had has been eating away at me since this morning. I should've never hurt you, I'm supposed to be the one protecting you. For what it's worth, I tried to apologize to Lady Ashara, but she slammed the door in my face."

"You deserved that."

"I know I did."

Ned sighs. "If you promise to never do it again... then yes, I forgive you."

A grin appears on Brandon's face. "I promise, Ned. A thousand times over."

They hug, as corny as it is, and Eddara is glad for it. While Brandon was certainly in the wrong, she never likes being angry at her siblings for too long.

"Oh, by the way, I meant to tell you, Father and Jon have reached an agreement. Congratulations, little sister, you're getting married to Elbert Arryn!" He claps her on the back and then leaves, as Ned looks after him in horror.

Marriage. The gilded cage. It was inevitable, but a foolish part of her had hoped...

Later that night, she drowns her sorrows in a cup of wine.

***************

The tourney gets boring, fast. The second day is exciting enough for Eddara, since on the first day, she was actually participating and didn't really have time to just watch the tournament.

She cheers on every knight from the North, even the ones that don't win. It quickly gets old, though. So while Brandon, Lyanna and Benjen spend their time in the stands, Eddara spends it doing other things.

One of her favorite pastimes is strolling through the gardens. Lyanna has always been obsessed with winter roses, but Ned's favorite flowers are moonblooms, which are so rare they only bloom in Harrenhal and Oldtown.

She stops to smell one when she hears the sound of a man clearing his throat.

"We meet again, Lady Eddara." Rhaegar offers a kindly smile and holds out his arm. Ned hesitates, but then takes it, because he is a prince and she doubts he would do anything improper. He had plenty of chances on the walk back to Harrenhal, after all. Besides, she has a dagger hidden in the folds of her dress.

A woman could never be too careful.

"Since we apparently keep running into one another, you may call me Ned, my prince. It's what most of my friends and family call me."

Rhaegar smiles. "Ned it is. So what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be watching the joust?"

"It bores me. The pageantry of it all is a little over the top. I confess, I much prefer the more simple pleasures of life. Stop to smell the roses, and all that."

"I agree."

They start a conversation, and it quickly morphs into a heated debate over the best method to better the impoverished conditions of the smallfolk. It's a topic that she has always been passionate about, and Rhaegar is too, from the looks of it.

When they reach the end of the walk, Rhaegar kisses her hand like a gentleman. "You are quite the conversationalist, my lady. Until we meet again."

They do meet again, several times, mainly in the gardens or the castle library. It's innocent, of course, merely a budding friendship; Eddara's sense of honor refuses to let it become anything more.

It's nice, having a friend like Rhaegar. He's every bit as introspective as she is, never making her feel like she has to make some jest to lighten the tone of the conversation, and when they talk, it's not about mundane subjects, but philosophical topics that interest them both.

"If forced to choose between the two, love or duty?" Rhaegar questions one day.

"Duty, of course."

"Hmmm, I disagree. I'd choose my heart."

"What? Why? Duty trumps all. We must put our responsibilities ahead of our personal feelings."

"But what if doing your duty means giving up someone you love, possibly forever?" He stares at her intensely, and Ned can't figure out why her answers are so important to him.

"I'd rather make the selfless choice and do my duty, even if it means a lifetime of unhappiness, instead of bringing shame to my family and my name. Depending on the kind of choice this is, it might even adversely affect the people that, as a lady, I've sworn to protect. It's wrong to hurt others in the pursuit of your own interests."

"Would it be worth it, if you were miserable? And if the people you cared about truly loved you, wouldn't they be happy if you made the choice that made _you_ happy? Besides, in all the songs, the prince and princess always choose one another over everything else. Just look at Prince Duncan and Jenny of Oldstones; they defied all the rules, and things worked out for them and the entire kingdom."

"Yes, until they were burned to a crisp at Summerhall. Life is not a song, Rhaegar," Ned says warily, discomfited by the topic of discussion for the first time. In her eyes, the world is black and white, and of course she would choose her duty.

Then, Rhaegar starts talking about Aegon's Conquest, and they quickly forget about the question after that.

***************

When she isn't with Rhaegar or her family, she explores Harrenhal with Howland Reed, who follows her like a shadow. Neither of them talk very much on their adventures, which suits them both just fine. The fortress is eerily empty, but Ned can still hear the roar of the crowd from the tourney in the tallest tower.

It is on one of these little escapades, sans Howland Reed, who was in the pits with Lyanna, that Ned meets a little four year old girl.

The little blonde haired girl is dragging a sword behind her in an abandoned tower, desperately trying to lift it.

"Need a little help?"

The girl jumps, and then shyly hides the sword behind her, shaking her head.

"It's alright, I won't tell anyone, I swear. I'm not the kind of lady you're thinking of, believe me."

Slowly, Ned walks over to her and takes the sword. "This is far too heavy for you. Try practicing a few beginner's techniques with a stick, and when you're a few years older, you can pick up a real weapon. I would recommend Archmaester Gallard’s 'History of Swordsmanship,' it's incredibly informative."

Eddara then takes the little girl's hand in her own, and shows her how to properly hold the sword. "Put your right thumb there- yes, that's it. That's the grip. You're a natural."

The blonde looks up at Ned and beams. "Thank you. I'm Brienne of Tarth."

"No problem. I'm Eddara Stark. So why are you up here all alone anyways? Don't you want to watch the tourney with your family? I'm not a big fan of tourneys in general, but even I'm willing to admit that it is quite a sight."

"Why are you up here?" the girl asks cheekily.

"The trumped up splendor of it all bores me, no matter how impressive it is."

"... Oh. I-I'm here because I'd rather learn how to fight than watch other men do it, then smile and clap like an idiot. Besides, it's not as if anyone would miss me."

Eddara frowns. "I'm sure that's not true."

"I'm the ugliest girl in all of Westeros. Why would anyone care about me? People only like the pretty ladies."

Ned takes a step back to study the girl. It's true, she has not been blessed with the best of features. Her teeth are crooked, her skin tanned and bruised, her blonde hair more scraggly than Eddara's own. Her eyes, though, are bluer than the ocean, easily her most attractive feature.

"Well, Brienne of Tarth, I'll let you in on a little secret, but you must promise not to tell a soul, understand?"

The little girl nods curiously.

"I myself am not all that pretty either, but a wise man told me that my beauty lies underneath. I know that yours does as well, Brienne. I'll tell you what, that sword might be too heavy for you, but I couldn't wield a blade half as well as you could at your age."

"You can fight?"

"I can. I've even fought as a knight in a tourney before."

"But... but I thought girls couldn't fight!"

"They can't, but I broke the rules to help a friend. You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Brienne shakes her head.

"Good. Remember Brienne, do not give up, no matter what anyone else tells you. Pick up that sword, and fight with honor, with courage and valor. One day, your bravery will be rewarded. If you stick by your principles, I promise, you have all the makings of a great knight."

Ned leaves the room, and the girl stares after her in awe. For a moment, she can envision Eddara Stark with a white kingsguard cloak and silver armor that glistened in the starlight, a hero from the legends of old.

Brienne of Tarth swears, that day, that she will be a knight. No matter what it takes.

***************

The next day, Lyanna manages to drag Eddara to watch the pits, refusing to take no for an answer.

"All the best matches are happening today, Ned! The kingsguard, the prince..." she trails off. "We _have_ to watch it."

They sit next to Catelyn Tully, her sister Lysa, and Benjen, who is saving three seats. "The last one is for Brandon when he loses his match," Benjen explains, and he and Lyanna laugh uproariously.

"It's lovely to meet you, Lady Catelyn, Lady Lysa." Eddara desperately hopes that her siblings haven't made too poor an impression on Brandon's betrothed. She doesn't want her to think they are all savages.

"You as well, Lady Eddara. Congratulations on your betrothal, it is a fine match. Lady Lyanna." Ned's stomach clenches, and Catelyn completes a better curtsy than Eddara has ever done, a curtain of russet hair tumbling down her back. She wears a dark green dress with a trout embroidered onto the bodice, pinched to emphasize her small waist. Lysa is dressed more plainly in a navy blue, but her eyes are focuses on a black haired boy sitting a few stands down.

They take their seats, and the joust begins. Brandon actually wins quite a few before losing to Oswell Whent, but he isn't shaken by it, choosing to clap the other man on the shoulder as he makes his way back to his siblings, taking a seat between Benjen and Lyanna.

Ned has to admit, it's quite exciting, watching the tourney narrow down to the most skilled knights, most of them kingsguard. She nearly screams herself hoarse when Ser Arthur verses Ser Barristan, alternating between rooting for the older knight and his younger sworn brother. Ultimately, after breaking twenty lances, Ser Barristan unhorses Dayne, and the crowd goes wild. All four of the Starks punch their fists in the air, and Benjen, Lyanna, and Ned all scream Barristan's name as he takes a victory lap.

Prince Rhaegar defeats Oswell Whent, and the crowd cheers just as loudly for him, for it was an unexpected victory. Eddara watches in amusement as Lyanna jumps up and down for him too. Her sister truly did love tourneys. She'd never seen her so excited.

It was the final match of the day, the joust that would go down in infamy. Ser Barristan versus Rhaegar.

"The prince will win. I'm sure he will. Ser Barristan is skilled, but the match with Ser Arthur wore him out. This tourney is Rhaegar's," Lyanna declares confidently. Her sister always had a knack for spotting winners.

Ned shakes her head. "I disagree. Rhaegar is proficient with a lance, but Barristan is in a league of his own. The kingsguard knight will win."

Everyone else agrees with Lyanna, saying that Barristan is tiring after besting Ser Arthur, and Rhaegar had hardly broken a sweat. At the end of the day, she is the lone voice, joined by a few others, screaming Barristan's name, as shouts of "RHAEGAR!" ripple through the crowd.

The prince and the knight face each other in the pits, basking in the applause. Barristan's white armor shines in the sunlight, and Rhaegar's grey one glistens. The sigil of the dragon is visible on his chest.

Their stallions run towards one another, and they break their lances, going for a second tilt.

They break them again, and again, and again. Finally, in the fifth tilt, Rhaegar catches Ser Barristan off guard. Ned can still see the moment when it happens in her mind's eye.

Rhaegar's dark lance, tilted ever so slightly downward, catching in a crevice of Barristan's lance, shattering it in two, as the pieces scatter and lay on the ground, coated in mud.

The crowd goes wild. Their roars for their beloved prince are deafening. Even Eddara, despite Barristan losing, claps for Rhaegar. He is her friend after all.

Rhaegar removes his helmet, silver hair spilling from the helm. His violet eyes are piercing, sharp cheekbones highlighted in the sun, and his pale hands reach out to catch the crown for the Queen of Love and Beauty. Ned can hear Lyanna's breath catch.

He is, she admits to herself, the most attractive man she's ever laid eyes on.

Everything happens in slow motion from there.

Rhaegar walks towards an expectant Elia, who glows with pride, her arms moving to reach out for the crown... and he walks right by her.

He walks past her to the Stark banner, and Eddara's heart leaps in her throat. What is he doing? He leans over the box, and Ned is frozen and speechless at the realization that he intends to crown someone who is not Elia.

Rhaegar walks past his wife, and he lays a crown of winter roses on Lyanna's lap.

Or atleast, that's what she thinks will happen, when she sees the crown of frosted flowers in his outstretched arm, as he leans towards the Stark girls. That what everyone thinks will happen because betrothed Lyanna may be, but she is one of the loveliest women at the tourney. Her azure gown matches the crown perfectly, her eyes glimmer in the light, and her raven hair is up in ringlets that frame her stunning face.

She might as well be a princess, and Ned is practically invisible next to her. She can see Robert's rage, and hear the scandalous rumors now, of Lyanna and the prince, as his hand descends.

But it is Eddara the Invisible that Rhaegar crowned that day. It is Eddara, with her plain grey eyes and long face, that receives a lapful of winter roses, as the Silver Prince rides off as if nothing had happened.

In the coming days, it is the mysterious Ned Stark who is whispered about. Strangely enough, Robert, despite Lyanna not being crowned, looks vexed, his face red with fury as he lays eyes upon the prince. Brandon Stark, who had been enraged at the thought of Rhaegar crowning Lyanna, now stands slack-jawed, too stunned to move.

That was the moment when all the smiles died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER!!! *Grins evilly*
> 
> So what are everyone’s thoughts on Rhaegar as of right now?
> 
> Just curious, what are everyone's thoughts on Ned up to now? Do I need to flesh her out more, am I writing her accurately, etc. Is she sympathetic?
> 
> Also, there’ll be more Arthur in the next chapter, I know a bunch of you are fans of him. Any changes in ships?
> 
> Cookies to everyone that’s left kudos and comments so far! Seriously, I’m a pretty obscure writer on this site, so getting this much feedback is insane.
> 
> Kudos and comments are the fuel to my writer’s flames, so please leave some!  
> The feedback is greatly appreciated, and it’s really heartening to know that people appreciate your work!
> 
> UP NEXT: Some things never change.


	4. A Winter Star

Eddara was dimly aware of Brandon grabbing her arm and all but dragging her out of the stands. She allowed him, too numb to even process what had happened, the crown of winter roses clutched in her hand.

Benjen, Lyanna, and Robert all rapidly followed on their heels.

Once they entered the tent, Brandon turned on her and asked, "Have you talked to the prince before now? Besides the one time at the feast?"

"No, of-of course not." Eddara wondered if her brother, in his preoccupied state, even noticed her stutter. She had never been skilled in the art of deception.

"So that settles it, then. That bloody prince... you're betrothed, for goodness' sake! The man is married, and still he sought to shame you!" Eddara flinched as Brandon threw a chair across the tent. Her brother's temper rivaled even Robert's.

"When I get my hands on him..."

"You will do no such thing," Eddara cut him off firmly, somehow finding her voice, and ignoring how weak it sounded. "He is the crown prince, Brandon. The kingsguard would cut you down before you came within five feet of him."

"I will not let this insult stand!" he roared.

"Be practical!" Ned raised her voice in turn. "There is nothing we can do but ignore it, Brandon. The tourney will be over in a few days anyway."

"Ned's right," Robert said gruffly, standing near the tent's exit. "It would be foolhardy to confront him now."

Brandon glared between the two of them. "Fine. I'll let it go for now. But if he pulls a stunt like that again, we're leaving the tourney. From now on, you'll have a chaperone with you at all times, be it me, Benjen, Robert, or one of the other Stark guards." He rounded on Eddara, eyes softening as he pressed a kiss on her cheek.

"Father instructed me to protect all of you, especially you and Lya, Ned. That's what I intend to do."

With that, Brandon stomped out of the tent, muttering and cursing Rhaegar under his breath. "I'll help him cool down," Benjen stated, offering Ned a reassuring smile before leaving the tent.

Eddara turned to Lyanna, but to her shock, the younger girl was glaring at her. "Don't speak to me." 

Lyanna ran out of the tent as well, leaving just Ned and Robert.

"You alright, Neddie?" Robert questioned, his tone neutral, giving nothing away.

"Fine, I suppose. Just... why me, Robert? Of all the women there, why did he have to give the damn thing to me?" She shook the flowery circlet, and the full weight of what had happened crashed down on her.

Everyone thought her a whore, no doubt. And poor Elia... the woman looked crushed. A red flush creeped up her neck as she realized that he had humiliated her and Elia, in front of everyone.

And she had thought he was her friend. She had told him of her unhappiness with Elbert. She had thought that he was kind, and sympathetic, and understanding...

_Lies._

Ned felt like bashing Rhaegar's face in.

"Shh, it's alright, Ned. You didn't do anything wrong. You know I'd skewer him with my war hammer for you if I could." Eddara hadn't even realized it, but somehow she'd crossed the tent over to Robert and hugged him.

Her dependency on her best friend hadn't really registered until that moment, when Ned was at her lowest point, and she realized how much she had missed Robert. He patted her back and whispered assurances in her ear, just like when they were young and she had been afraid of marrying Elbert.

Honestly, Elbert was probably the least of her problems at the moment. If word got back to Jon and he cancelled the betrothal... Rhaegar Targaryen was the one that had acted dishonorably, yet Ned couldn't help but feel like she was the one paying the consequences for his mistake. Wasn't that always what happened, in the stories? Princes and kings made stupid decisions, and the realm bled for them.

It wasn't fair. Not to her, or Elia, or anyone.

Eddara straightened out her dress, and a newfound sense of determination and righteous indignation filled her. Elia, the sweet Dornishwoman, deserved this least of all. It was Ned's fault, she should've seen the dragon prince for the liar and fool that he was, but the princess... someone needed to defend her honor.

Suddenly, an idea struck her. "Robert, there are a few more jousts being held today, correct?"

"Yes, but... Ned, girl, what are you thinking? Don't do anything stupid, not now."

"It's not stupid, Robert."

"You'll get in trouble, Brandon said-"

"I don't care what my brother said. I will defend the Dornish princess, and my own honor, if I can help it. Are you coming or not?"

For the first time in her life, Eddara understood what her father meant by wolfsblood. Lyanna had a touch of it, and Brandon more than a touch, but Ned... Ned, the Quiet Wolf, the one everyone thought was more of a sheep than a wolf, was filled with it, bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

Rhaegar Targaryen was going to wish he'd never laid eyes on her.

***************

Her grey cloak fluttered in the wind, a giant direwolf woven in the middle, as she mounted her stallion. She galloped towards the pits, mere feet away from the field, and everywhere around her, smallfolk, knights, lords and ladies peered at her in shock.

Word had spread about the unfortunate crowning of Eddara Stark, the peculiar maiden of the North, and the whispers started anew of the lady with the somber face, whose icy expression gave nothing away.

_Drown them out, Eddara. Drown them all out._

She gripped the reins of her horse and watched the last tournament of the day commence in disinterest. Watching the spectacle was not her true purpose, after all.

The knights clashed, but the knight representing House Lannister emerged victorious. The crowd cheered for the victor, slowly getting up to leave the field.

This was it. Ignoring the way her heart was nearly bursting out of her chest in nervousness, she rode out onto the field before the prince and princess could take their leave. This was the right thing to do; she was sure of it.

All eyes were on her, wondering why she was on the tourney field, and waiting to see what she would do next. The tourney was so silent, Ned could hear the rustle of banners rippling in the wind.

She rode over to the Dornish party, and slowly took out the crown of winter roses hidden in her satchel. A man with black hair stood up, his coal black eyes flashing, as if to ward her off like an evil spirit. Princess Elia, however, put a hand on his arm, and looked over to her, intrigued.

And so, Eddara Stark tossed a crown of winter roses into the princess' lap. "To princess Elia, the _true_ queen of love and beauty," she declared, before riding off with her head held high, as nonchalant as the prince himself had been when he crowned her.

Vindictive pleasure coursed through her veins upon seeing Rhaegar's appropriately chastised face from where he sat, next to the king.

Robert shook his head as Ned made her way back to him. "You know, I almost feel sorry for the fellow. Rhaegar Targaryen picked the wrong Stark to mess with."

"Yes," she said, more confidently then she felt. "He certainly did."

***************

Brandon raged, of course. Ever since the prince had given her the crown, he had been on a short fuse, and just about everything set him off nowadays.

Although, when he calmed down, he clapped Eddara on the back and told her she had done the right thing. Lyanna was still ignoring her, and Eddara, for the life of her, could not figure out why.

Still, as the Starks went to dine in the hall, Eddara knew that she would be glad when this tourney was over. The incident had ruined any joy she had received from her stunt as the Knight of the Laughing Tree, and had only furthered her dislike of tournaments.

She regretted entering the hall the moment all eyes turned on her. The nobles all stared at her openly, gradually resuming their conversations as she sat down at the table of the northerners. She knew people had initially been disgusted by her when she was crowned, thinking her a harlot, no doubt.

After the incident with Elia, though, people didn't seem to know what to think. There was grudging respect in the eyes of the Dornishmen, and the southerners seemed more bemused than anything else. Rhaegar and the woman in question were seated at the high table with Aerys.

Elia, too, had the look of a warrior in her eyes, the same look that Ned wore now as people whispered around her. The crown of winter roses was interwoven into locks of the princess' dark hair, matching her sky blue gown. Rhaegar briefly met her eyes before pursing his lips and looking away.

"May I have this dance, Lady Eddara?" Arthur Dayne offered her his hand once more, his warm brown eyes looking at her in concern. She nodded and took it, curious to see why he had asked her again. She could feel Brandon's eyes boring into her back as she did so, but this was Ser Arthur. The world would end before he did anything unbecoming of a knight.

He led her confidently through the waltz. "Rhaegar would like to apologize for what he did. He realizes that in attempting to honor you, he's only offended you."

"Does the prince always send his knights to do his dirty work? If he wants his apology to mean anything, please tell him deliver the apology himself, Ser Arthur."

The corners of Arthur's mouth twitched. "Well, that was an awfully polite way of phrasing an insult. Though, I can't honestly blame you. I'll relay your message."

Arthur hesitated, and then continued, "For what it's worth, Lady Eddara, what you did was very honorable, giving Elia back her crown. I know that she greatly appreciates the gesture.”

Arthur frowned, noticing the bruise on her arm. "Are you alright, my lady?"

"Yes, Ser Arthur, I... fell. Out of a tree."

Arthur blinked. "You fell out of a _tree_."

Ned nodded. "I see." Unfortunately, Brandon passed by them at that exact moment, the bruise still visible on his cheek as well. Ned saw Arthur take note of it. "And did your brother fall out of this tree as well?"

"Yes, Ser. The Stark are very honorable, but very... umm... clumsy people. " _Shut up, Ned. Just shut up._

Arthur shook his head and chuckled. "I was going to duel Brandon when my sister told me what happened, but because of you, it seems like I no longer have to."

"How do you know that it was about your sister, my gallant knight?" Eddara teased.

"I know your code of values, my lady. I know _you_."

Arthur leaned down and whispered, "The thing about being a knight, my lady, is that your lowest moment is when you're kicked in the dirt in the midst of a fight. Your breath is knocked out of you, but a true knight will get up, despite the blows, and he will carry on. Somehow, I don't think that will be a problem for you. Keep your head up, you'll get through it. The court is fickle; they'll find something else to gossip about soon enough." Dayne bowed to her once more, and she curtsied, heartened by his kind words.

The kingsguard had been her childhood hero, and she doubted her admiration of him would wear off anytime soon, if ever.

"My lady? Shall we pick up where you and Ser Arthur left off?" Ned jumped at the sound of a new voice, startled by the sight of Oberyn Martell, a man with quite the reputation. The Red Viper, one of deadliest men in Dorne. The man seemed to sense her unease and reluctance to agree, and he whispered, "I mean you no harm, my lady."

She nodded, allowing him to grab her hand and her waist, as he spoke once more. "On behalf of my sister, thank you, for rectifying the insult. It is the prince who looks the fool now."

"Good." Her reply was terse, eyes flashing in anger at the mere mention of Rhaegar, and Oberyn nodded his head, sympathetic. "I admit, I thought you a whore when he crowned you, but I think you are a different specimen entirely, Lady Eddara."

He led her over to a corner, where Elia stood, waiting patiently, her hands clasped in front of her. The Dornish princess might have been thin and frail on the outside, but there was a glint in her eyes that resembled the look in Oberyn’s.

Immediately, Ned removed her hand from Oberyn's. "My apologies, princess. I truly did not mean-"

"It is not your fault, Lady Stark, but my lord husband's. I see that now. Thank you, for what you did for me. I only wished to tell you in person. I suppose I should be thankful that my husband picked the one girl who had the decency to give the crown back to its rightful owner, and save me from further embarassment." Oberyn smiled at his sister and took her hand, leading her away, as Elia shot one last smile over her shoulder at Ned.

Eddara sighed in relief. Well, atleast the Martells weren't mad at her anymore. That was something.

She moved to rejoin her brothers and sister at their table, but a hand suddenly reached out, dragging her by her silver shawl out of the hall and into a small alcove right outside.

Ned reacted quickly, grabbing her hidden dagger from her boot and pressing the blade against her attacker's neck. Against the firelight, his face became visible.

"Rhaegar? What in seven hells are you doing?"

"Do you always carry that around with you?" The prince had the nerve to smile.

She stepped back and slapped him.

"Ouch... alright, I suppose I deserved that. Forgive me, Lady Eddara, I merely wished to speak with you in person. I am sorry for the whole queen of love and beauty business. I merely wished to crown you for your bravery. You deserved a reward for your unrecognized deed. I am sorry if it was perceived as an insult," he spoke earnestly.

Ned frowned. "You caused me and _your wife_ a great deal of distress, Prince Rhaegar, and you should've known better than to think I needed a reward for my actions. My friend's happiness was enough."

"I know, and I've apologized to Elia for causing her grief. Please, forgive me."

Eddara pursed her lips. She didn't really want to... but he was her prince. Besides, Brandon and Lyanna were the ones who liked confrontation and holding grudges, not her.

"I cannot completely forgive you, your grace. But I suppose, if you truly mean it... then I accept your apology. Nevertheless, I ask that you please keep your distance for the rest of the tourney. I have no desire to speak with you any longer."

She kept her voice cool and her expression blank, showing no emotion.

"You have betrayed me, your grace. I thought of you as a friend, and because of your poor actions, my reputation was soiled and my betrothal thrown in jeopardy, not to mention the fact that Lyanna won't even give me the time of day. Don't you understand? This was my last year of freedom, and you have _ruined_ it."

She couldn't help the desperation that seeped into her voice, cracking in despair, nor the tears that leaked out of her face. The full weight of marriage, and all the emotions that she had not allowed herself to feel came crashing down.

She was trapped. As trapped as Queen Rhaella, as trapped as Elia Martell, burdened by the expectations of a life that is not for her. She will be wedded and bedded, locked away in some high tower in the Vale to knit and dance and wear skirts instead of breeches for the rest of her life, bearing babes for a husband who will use her like a broodmare.

There will never be another Knight of the Laughing Tree, or a horse race to take part in. She will never stay up late to listen to the direwolves howl at night; moreover, she will likely only see Winterfell a handful of times in her life. The thought filled her with incredible sadness, and a weary, resigned sort of acceptance.

Rhaegar moved to wipe the tears out of her eyes, but she sidestepped him, rubbing her eyes herself. She is a Stark of Winterfell, and she will not show weakness. Not now, not to him.

She turned around to return to the mess hall, but Rhaegar's slender fingers grasped her wrist, pulling her back to him.

"I'm sorry, Ned. It's not fair that you're chained to a man you do not love."

Eddara shook her head. She will not fall for his silver tongue again.

"Please, hear me out. I know you have always seen me as a friend, Eddara... but I never have," the prince confessed, desperation in his eyes as he looked at Ned, silently willing her to understand.

"Speak plainly, Rhaegar, or not at all."

"I love you, Eddara Stark. I didn't expect to fall for you, but there was something _there,_ from the moment we met. You see me in a way that no one else does; you _understand_ me. All the times we talked in the gardens... I have never met a woman like you, one that loves discussions and isn't afraid to disagree with me, isn't afraid to just _talk_ to me. All my life, I've felt like there was some cloud of doom hanging over me, but I don't feel that way with you."

"You make me _laugh,_ in a way that no one else does."

"That day when I won the tourney, I looked at you, with your eyes like ice, so bright they put the stars to shame, and I knew. Together, _we_ are the song of ice and fire."

He looked at her with so much adoration in her eyes, and Eddara felt like throwing up.

"You have a _wife,_ Rhaegar," Ned hissed, her blood boiling.

"I am fond of Elia, but I do not love her. Contrary to what you might think, she does not love me either. There is another. We care for each other, but we do not love each other."

"With all due respect, that doesn't mean you aren't still married to her! Of course, then there's the fact that I am still betrothed to another man. How many times do I have to tell you, life is not a song!"

"You despise your betrothed."

"But I will marry him. I will do my duty, by my lord father and my house. I will do what is right, even if it kills me. Because that is the kind of woman I am, Rhaegar. I told you that in the gardens."

"I can free you, Eddara. In a year's time, after the whispers die down, I can go north on some pretense, and intercept you on your way to the Vale." His eyes are alit with a dragon's flame, smoldering in the depths of his indigo irises.

"We can run away, somewhere where no one will ever find us. Please, I must... the thought of you being with another man, I cannot, I _will_ not... Run away with me."

"We can change the realm! Depose of my father, create a better world..." he trailed off.

Eddara froze in shock, and then she laughed hysterically.

Because certainly, he could not be serious.

Except... he was, more serious than she has ever seen him. His eyes were filled with determination, the lines of his face flickering in the light, his face inches from hers.

"Rhaegar, _no. _”__

____

"Why not?" he challenged.

____

"Because... because of my father and Brandon and Elia and Elbert and your father and a million other people that this will affect!" she spit, astounded by his stupidity.

____

"I do not know if you are as mad as your father or just an idiot, but do you honestly believe that there will be no repercussions for our actions? That we can just run away from it all, and expect there to be no more consequences? My father would be furious, the king would have our heads... they say he's insane and completely unpredictable..."

____

"He won't be in power for long. You said you believed in me, Eddara, in the world that I would build, the better future I would create. I will deal with everything that stands in our way, all I need to know is that you'll stand with me. I can annul my marriage to Elia so we can marry, although I'll make sure Rhaenys will still be legitimate."

____

He kissed her fingers, his touch as light as feathers, but Ned pulls away.

____

"No, Rhaegar. This is not a children's tale; your _love_ will destroy us both. For the last time, I am not a woman who shirks from my duty, nor am I one who sleeps with a married man." Her tone brokered no compromise, as she turned away one final time. He made no move stop her, his eyes filled with melancholy and incredible sadness.

____

As she opened the door to re-enter the hall, his voice cut through the silence.

____

"Is it truly only _my_ love, my winter star? Can you look me in the eye, and tell me that you do not love me, that you have never once felt anything between us?"

____

She paused.

____

"I do not love you, Rhaegar Targaryen."

____

She does not look at him when she says it.

____

***************

____

She made her way back to the table and asked Brandon if she could leave early, clutching a cup of wine in her shaking hand as she did, to which he nodded, ordering a Stark guard to escort her out. When she reached the tent, to her surprise, Lyanna was already there.

____

Lya tutted sarcastically as she entered the tent. "Befriending Robert Baratheon, aiding Howland Reed, being crowned by Rhaegar Targaryen, arriving on the arm of Jaime Lannister, and now a second dance with Arthur Dayne? It appears as if men are lining up for you, sweet sister." This time it's Lyanna who gets wine poured over head. Eddara's temper was already running short, but Ned's honestly glad that someone can find it in themselves to joke about it, no matter how cruel her taunt sounded.

____

"You cannot see it, sister? The crannogman is clearly infatuated with you," Lyanna whispered in her ears, and Eddara stiffened. "Howland is a good friend, nothing more."

____

"I don't know, sister. Perhaps you can convince father to have you betrothed to him instead. He's certainly a better sort than most of the other high lords, your beloved Elbert included." Ned gagged, and Lyanna laughed at her expression, a lovely laugh, filled with mirth. For a moment, they were sisters again, but then Lyanna's expression became closed off once more.

____

"Still, Lyanna. You know father would never let me marry a crannogman; there is no political gain to be made from such a match, and Howland Reed, though I am fond of him, is too lowborn for father to even consider it." Lya got up and left at that point, ignoring Ned's pleas for her to stay.

____

There was an aching sadness in Eddara's words. It's true, she does not feel any great love for Howland Reed, but she has grown awfully fond of the young man, much more than Elbert.

____

She could see herself living in the Neck that Howland spoke so often about, fishing and rowing with the crannogmen. They let the women hunt and fight there as well, Reed had told her. They were a simple people who lived a simple life, and that was really all that she wanted at this point.

____

She could never see herself as Rhaegar's queen.

____

***************

____

The tourney came to a close. There was no more exploring the mysteries of Harrenhal, no more strolls in gardens or reading in libraries. Eddara tuned out the matches for the most part, wistfully thinking of Winterfell and longing to go back home.

____

All the boldness and the surge of adrenaline she had felt after the events of the past few days was gone, as her temper cooled and she spent the rest of her days dreaming of a wintry fortress, covered in snow.

____

Even at the banquets, she was sullen, politely refusing lords who ask her for a dance, choosing to spend her remaining days with Howland Reed, and surprisingly enough, Arthur Dayne, who sat next to her frequently. He was a kindred spirit; someone who knew the meaning of honor and oaths. He looked at her, his expression almost forlorn, but also approving, and Eddara had the strangest feeling that he knew what had happened between her and the prince. It wouldn't surprise her if he did.

____

Meanwhile, Lyanna danced the night away, coming back to their tent with her cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with mirth. For some strange reason, her mood had improved seemingly overnight.

____

She popped down on the bedspread next to Ned one night, and said casually, "I'm sorry I acted like a brat. It's not like you asked for the stupid flowers anyway. Can you forgive me, sister?"

____

Ned should've ignored her, should've given her the cold shoulder as Lyanna had done for days now. But she was not Lyanna, and so she accepted the apology with a frigid kiss on the cheek.

____

She was Eddara Stark, a lady of Winterfell, and a woman-grown. She was to be polite and forgiving; respectful and courteous; even-tempered and obedient. She must live up to a million standards of perfection.

____

No one saw the cracks, no one saw the way she's breaking. No one except Rhaegar Targaryen, and she hated him for it.

____

She hated Rhaegar Targaryen because he gave her a wreath of winter roses.

____

She hated Rhaegar Targaryen because he gave her something to lose, when she will marry Elbert.

____

She hated Rhaegar Targaryen because he gave her his love.

____

She hated herself because somewhere along the way, between discussions of honor and prophecies, and stolen moments in the halls of Harrenhal, she gave him her heart.

____

She wouldn't be so angry at him now if she hadn't.

____

But her answer to the question remained the same.

____

Duty. Always duty, and honor.

____

Her family came first, her people came second, her husband will come third, and she came last.

____

***************

____

Lyanna and her have come to some sort of truce now, and they made conversation well enough, but their easy rapport from before was gone. Eddara could visualize the rift between them growing larger, but she didn't know what she could do to stop it.

____

The melee occurred on the final day of competition, and Ned mustered a smile, for Robert's sake. He was as excitable as a child, begging Eddara for her favor.

____

"Robert, you should really be asking Lyanna."

____

"I really should, but you've been in a somber mood ever since that nonsense with the Targaryen. I think it'll cheer you up if I win with your favor." He was so cocky, so sure of his victory, and so sure that Eddara would oblige him that Ned couldn't help but laugh and give him a scrap of cloth, torn from the ribbon in her hair.

____

This is what friends are for, she realized, as she tied it around his arm, feeling more cheered up than she had in days.

____

She went to the stands and looked for an available seat. "Lady Stark! Lady Stark! Over here!" Tyrion Lannister waved his stubby little arms in the air, and Ned walked over to him, smiling and sitting down. "Hello, Tyrion. It's nice to see you again."

____

She preferred spending her time with children nowadays. Unlike the adults, all they saw that day was the prince winning the tourney, and they were not old enough to fully understand the significance of the crowning of Eddara. Their eyes were free of judgement when they gazed upon her.

____

Unfortunately, Tyrion was not alone. His sister was on the other side of him, bedecked in jewelry, and Catelyn sat on the other side. They greeted one another, but Catelyn seemed less inclined to talk to her than before.

____

Cersei ignored Eddara almost entirely, spending the whole melee complaining of how if her beloved twin was here, he would beat everyone with his precocious abilities.

____

Tyrion mocked her discreetly, waving his arms around in an exaggerated manner, scrunching his tiny nose to mimic Cersei's pompous expressions of disgust, and Eddara chuckled at his impressions. For her part, Ned tuned out the irritating older girl in favor of her brother, slowly explaining the rules to Tyrion and which side was winning.

____

He was a clever little thing, and he caught on quickly. Eddara wouldn't be surprised if the boy became a maester.

____

Robert performed well at the melee and he won, pumping his arm in the air and racing across the field in a victory lap. Ned cheered him on, attracting a few stares. Cersei smirked at her and said loudly, "It's a good thing melees don't have queens of love and beauty, lest you receive another wreath from a man who is not _your_ betrothed."

____

Ned flushed red in embarrassment at the insinuation, but suddenly Tyrion jumped up and yelled Robert's name along with her, even louder than Ned herself, glaring at his sister.

____

"Lady Stark might have received a crown of love and beauty from another man, but she's still less of a whore than _you,_ " he snapped, before resuming his yelling, joined by Ned as Cersei gaped in shock.

____

It was not so odd, now that the two of them were doing it, and Ned was incredibly grateful. Tyrion Lannister may be small in stature, but his heart was more than big enough to compensate, and Eddara just knew that he was going to be a great man when he grew up.

____

She saw Rhaegar in the corner of her eye. He was talking to little Brienne of Tarth, of all people, laughing and smiling with the girl before patting her on the back, surrounded by lords vying for his attention. Ned's not surprised. Rhaegar could be charismatic when he wanted to be. There was no denying that he's kind, too, for the smallfolk adored him... he is merely a fool, in her eyes.

____

Ignoring him, Ned congratulated Robert as he climbed the stands to sit next to her.

____

Finally, the tourney is over.

____

***************

____

They left in the early morning, wasting no time dallying.

____

Eddara got on her horse, and Lyanna mounted her steed. Brandon and Benjen rode on either side of them, with Stark guards protecting them from the front and back.

____

Yet, through the wall of guards and brothers, Ned still caught a glimpse of Rhaegar, his indigo eyes piercing her grey ones in a silent promise.

____

Then, he blinked and turned slightly to the side, and Eddara froze, because she realized it was actually Lyanna that he was looking at. Lyanna, who returned his gaze with wistfulness, adoration, and something akin to lust, and suddenly, Ned knew something was very, very wrong.

____

She cornered Lyanna in their tent that night as they rested. No guards surrounded them, as they were far away from Harrenhal. She thought of all the dances Lyanna and Rhaegar shared, of her sister's mysterious disappearances from time to time and flushed cheeks, red with anger at Eddara after she was crowned.

____

She was a damned _fool_ for not seeing it earlier.

____

"What have you done? What has he told you?" She interrogated her younger sister.

____

"Who? What are you talking about, Ned?" Lyanna twirled a strand of her midnight hair coyly, trying her best to hide a mischievous smile, as if it was all a game to her.

____

"You know who I'm talking about, Lya. I saw the prince looking at you, I _know_."

____

Ned's hard tone rattled Lya, who straightened, putting her hands on her hips. "I have done nothing improper. I am not a whore, sister; I have my dignity."

____

"But what have you done, Lyanna?"

____

Lyanna pursed her lips. "You do not understand, Eddara. You barely even know him. We danced at the first night in Harrenhal, and a few days after the crowning incident the prince sought me out. He listens to me, and he shares my dreams. We have so much in common Ned; our love of music, of songs and legends. Rhaegar wants to give me my freedom." Her eyes held so much love when she said his name that Eddara's heart ached for her.

____

"Besides, Ned, you have never been in love, nor have you ever been interested in it," Lyanna continued, almost callously, although she knew her sister did not mean it that way. "You don't know what it's like, to have someone who is willing to risk life and limb, willing to risk everything to have you at his side."

____

This is the part that Eddara had always hated about fairytales, because to her, nothing is romantic about watching the world burn to fulfill one's own desires. "I suppose he has asked you to elope with him?"

____

Lyanna answered hesitantly, "Actually, I asked him on the last day of the tourney."

____

Ned exploded. She has had it up to here with dragon princes and their stupid games.

____

"What were you thinking? I know Rhaegar, Lya, and he has filled your head with lies," she reprimanded sharply.

____

She did not tell Lyanna that with her, it was Rhaegar who asked Ned to come away with him. She did not know what the crown prince was playing at here, if his intentions were pure or tainted.

____

She did not know if Rhaegar actually did love her sister, or if he just saw a maiden he could save and simply agreed to Lya's suggestion, or if this was for another reason entirely, but she did not dare voice her theories out loud.

____

Lyanna scoffed. "Rhaegar barely knows you. I bet he only gave you the crown so that the two of us could meet in secret without arousing Brandon's suspicion."

____

"Or maybe you're just jealous that I found my prince, while you're stuck with Elbert Arryn. Ned, don't you understand, I'm stuck too! You think I want to marry Robert? The man treats me like a doll, not a person. He's in love with the idea of me, not me. Brandon had the option to end his betrothal with Catelyn if he did not approve of her, but I never did! Robert'll probably show up to our marriage bed drunk! I do not want to marry him, I will not marry him! " Lyanna shrieked shrilly, gasping for air.

____

"Do you honestly believe you are the only person in all seven kingdoms being asked to do something she does not want to do? Do you think you're the only lady to ever marry a man she does not want to marry?" Ned's voice raised in pitch and tone.

____

"Grow up, Lyanna! When will you realize that this is life? This is the reality of our situation! There is no escape, no way out."

____

"I do not want to marry Elbert. But I know what is expected of me. You should as well."

____

Lyanna shook her head furiously, tears pouring down her face. "What has happened to you? You used to be just like me, Eddara. We used to hide under our covers and plot our escape in the twilight hours, dreaming of knights and tourneys and love. Rhaegar will let me fight with a sword; he would never force me to be something I do not want to be. Do your duty all you want, Ned, and be miserable for it, but all I want is to be happy. I want a man that will respect me for _who I am._ Is that so wrong?"

____

"We are ladies, Lyanna. Happiness was never in the cards for us." She thought of Elbert's disapproving, haughty gaze and shivered. Atleast Robert _liked_ Lyanna well enough.

____

"What you are planning is selfish and wrong. People will get hurt."

____

"You don't know what you're talking about! We're saving the realm!" Eddara nearly burst out laughing at that, but somehow she kept a straight face, and continued speaking in an even, measured voice.

____

"Besides, Rhaegar is married."

____

"He'll annul it."

____

"Will he? What about his daughter? And if he does, will you even be happy as his princess, as his queen? You are reckless and bold Lyanna, and it has clouded your senses. As cruel as I may seem, little sister, I only want what is best for you." Her statement is met with silence.

____

And then, slowly, Lyanna whispered hoarsely, "It will kill me, Ned. Marrying a man I do not love will _destroy_ me; I am not meant to be caged." Ned's heart broke for her sister at that, but she did not yield.

____

"You will not run away with Rhaegar Targaryen under any circumstances, understood? Or I will tell father... or better yet, Brandon. You will wait a year, and then marry Robert Baratheon, and forget this nonsense with the prince ever happened."

____

" _Fine._ " Lyanna had tears streaming down her face, but she dodged Ned's attempts to wipe them away. "I need some air."

____

Her younger sister jumped on her horse and galloped away, but not before declaring, "I _hate_ you."

____

Ned watched her younger sister ride away, her slender figure glistening in the moonlight, and wondered if this was what it was like to be a parent.

____

"I'd rather have you hate me, Lya, then make a mistake you'll regret for the rest of your life."

____

***************

____

The ride back to Winterfell was long, and dreary. Brandon's spirits were high, but he was just about the only one.

____

"The farther away from the prince, the better," he remarked to Ned, and she merely nodded quietly.

____

Lyanna refused to even look at her, stonily glaring at her whenever their brothers aren't looking. Her sister had always been headstrong, and Ned loved her for it anyways.

____

Lyanna will understand, one day. She may not now, for she was still a year younger than Eddara after all, but her sister would have time to think things through in Winterfell.

____

Finally, they were home.

____

Ned was glad for it, even if everything had changed now. Even if Lyanna wouldn't speak to her, Brandon was so protective that it was suffocating, and everywhere she went ladies teased her about her upcoming nuptials. She avoided almost everyone in the fortress but Benjen, choosing to spend a majority of her time alone, as she's always done.

____

Because even if everything had changed, some things stayed the same. She still opened her window and heard the songs of the direwolves at night, howling at the moon. She still sometimes wandered around Wintertown, occasionally chatted with the smallfolk, and asked a servant to sit with her and tell her a story during supper.

____

She still frequently snuck out to the godswood and practiced her swordwork with a desperation and ferocity that hadn't been there before, implementing Arthur Dayne's techniques into practice. It may be the last time she ever held a blade, after all, the last time she ever listened to the song of steel as she wielded the sword in her hand.

____

Of all the things, she will miss this most of all. If not for the Eyrie's vast library, she'd reckon that she'll probably go insane within the first year of marriage and throw herself down the moon door.

____

She has dreams, now, of Harrenhal. Of people screaming her name as she raised a lance, high in the air like the knights of old, filled with exhilaration. In that one moment, she had felt invincible.

____

She dreamed of dancing with the Sword of Morning, and telling stories with Howland Reed, entering the hall on the arm of a golden knight of fifteen summers who doesn't yet understand what it's like, to be Aerys' kingsguard. The whispers of the king's madness only grew louder.

____

She dreamed of him most of all. Dreamed of a love that cannot be, will not be if Eddara can help it. Dreamed of his indigo eyes laughing into hers, deep in thought as they brainstormed ideas to better a kingdom. Dreamed of dancing in the midst of moonblooms as he finally played a happy song, just for her. Dreamed of a crown of winter roses, for all the trouble it has brought her, and the only man in the world blind enough to think her the loveliest maiden there.

____

Ned held these dreams close, for they are the only things she was allowed to keep.

____

***************

____

They waited a year, and then they departed for the Riverlands.

____

The plan was to attend Brandon's marriage to Catelyn first, then Lyanna's, and finally Eddara's. Ned's was last, solely because Robert wanted to attend her marriage too, probably to cheer her up.

____

And so, they set off for Riverrun. At some point in their journey, they were only ten leagues from Harrenhal, and Eddara visibly shuddered from the memories. Strangely enough, when they camp there, Ned dreamed not of the tourney, but the unfortunate legends of misfortune that surround the castle itself.

____

_There is a curse on Harrenhal, the bards whispered ominously._

____

She slept, ignoring the prickling of her skin and the way her hair stood on end.

____

The next morning, she woke up to the sound of yelling. Brandon's face was contorted in rage and panic. It's not long before she realized why, and a feeling of dread settled over her.

____

Lyanna Stark was gone.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done! Finally, this chapter seriously took forever to write. It’s the longest one I’ve written(7k+) and then editing and revising, which literally took hours. 
> 
> I know that Rhaegar’s motives are kind of in the dark right now, but what do you guys think is the reason he asked Lyanna? Any predictions for upcoming chapters? You guys are really good at guessing these things in the comments.
> 
> Also, this is kind of random too, but does anyone have any tag suggestions for this fic? I think I got all the popular tags that apply, but I’m not too sure.
> 
> ***IMPORTANT: Aegon, Rhaegar’s son, does not exist in this story, mainly for plot purposes which will be revealed later on, but other reasons too. 
> 
> I love writing kid!Tyrion. Halfman has been putting Cersei in her place since his days in the crib, y’all. I’m thinking of writing a one-shot with him. 
> 
> As for ships, who Ned will end up with is still pretty ambiguous for now, even if she did show feelings for one character. Anything is possible at this point.
> 
> There were a bunch of character interactions in this one(Arthur and Ned, Tyrion and Ned, Ned confronts Lyanna, meeting Elia and Oberyn, etc). What did you think of them?
> 
> I greatly appreciate all the kudos and comments people have left on this work! Thank you so much guys, it’s really nice to know people appreciate the fic and the effort that goes into it. Please continue to leave feedback through kudos and comments, I always love seeing them!
> 
> UP NEXT: A very rude awakening.


	5. Regrets

"WHERE IS SHE?" Brandon Stark's voice boomed, his face contorted in fury. Her brother's rage was a terrible thing to behold.

"Rhaegar," Eddara answered faintly, when no one else would. "She ran away with Rhaegar."

"Nonsense. She'd never run away with the Targaryen bastard!"

"She did, Brandon. I know she did."

"You're wrong, our sister would never break her betrothal like that. She must've been kidnapped. That damn prince!" Brandon's face was flushed.

In the days to come, Ned would wish she had argued harder. She would wish she could've prevented the series of misfortunate events that was to come.

Knowing Brandon, though, nothing that Ned said would've changed his mind. She saw the rage build up in his eyes, wolfblood pumping through his veins, and knew that there was no stopping him. Her brother's blood ran hot, and there was a wildness to Brandon, some mysterious force that made him lose all logic in his anger.

At that point, Ned's brain was too addled to even think straight. She had told Lya, she had _warned_ her...

Everything happened in a blur from there.

Brandon begged their father to go to King's Landing and confront the king. Rickard disagreed at first, and for all his faults, Eddara knew that she got her sensibility and sense of caution from him.

However, Brandon was a hard man to refuse, and eventually, her father gave in, nodding in acquiescence. Ned tried to tell him too, tried to tell him that Lyanna had made her choice, but he waved her off. "It doesn't matter either way, Eddara. Lyanna is betrothed; she has no business with a prince."

They organized a small party to travel to King's Landing and "inquire" about Lyanna's whereabouts, a group that included Ned's betrothed, Elbert Arryn. Ned was left at the Vale for her own protection, with the promise that her wedding would occur as soon as this business with Lyanna was sorted out.

Eddara knew better. When it came to Lyanna, nothing was ever that simple. _Stay,_ she implored. But since when had anyone in the family listened to her? She was the quiet wolf, after all.

A kiss on the cheek from Brandon, a pat on the back from father, and they're gone.

They were gone, and Lyanna was gone, and Benjen was all alone in Winterfell, and it was all happening too fast. Too fast to process, too fast for her to even catch her breath, stop for a minute and _think._

Robert met her in the Vale days later. He was angrier than she’d ever seen him, as he spent all their time raging about Rhaegar fricking Targaryen, that kidnapping bastard.

Ned made a last-ditch attempt to tell Robert the truth, but he reacted similarly to Brandon, not believing Lyanna, the delicate winter rose that he undoubtedly thought she was, to be capable of such a thing.

Eventually, Eddara learned to stay silent because she knew that insisting what she knew to be the truth would not make a difference to him either. Everyone around her was quivering in indignation at the slight upon their honor, but all her anger was spent, and all that's left was dread. She prayed that somehow, her family would make it out of this mess intact.

She received a raven the next day announcing the deaths of father and Brandon, and it all went downhill from there.

********************

Eddara was inconsolable for days.

Robert hugged her, Jon sat with her and told her stories of father when he was young, and the servants made all of Ned's favorite dishes. It did not matter.

Her father and Brandon were dead. Nothing would ever fix that.

Dimly, she realized that Elbert was dead too, and she didn't quite know how to feel about that. She did not like the man, but Ned later placed a flower on his makeshift grave in the Vale. He didn't deserve the end he got.

She looked out the window, with puffy eyes and silent tears dripping down her cheeks. If Ned closed her eyes, she could see Brandon in her mind's eye, picking her up and twirling her around when she came back from the Vale. She could feel the warmth that emanated from his wolfskin cloak, hear the loud booming of his voice.

She remembered a vague memory of father lifting her up when she was little too, the lines of his face less prominent back then as he smiled at her with warm, light grey eyes, so similar to Ned's own. Whatever else her father had been, he had ultimately been a good man, and there was no denying that he had not deserved what happened to him either.

"It'll be alright, Ned. You'll get through this. Come on now, you have to eat." Robert rubbed her arm in an attempt to comfort her, but she pulled away.

"Do you know what they did?"

Robert's eyes softened, but Ned could still detect the undercurrents of fury in his Baratheon blue eyes.

"They say Brandon screamed for Rhaegar to 'come out and die.' The Mad King imprisoned him, so my father asked for a trial by combat."

"And do you know what he named as his champion? _Fire._ That psychotic man tied my father to a stake and burned him alive. My father's skin peeled off his body in charred heaps, and they say he screamed so loud the entire Keep could hear him, but all the king could do was laugh, as if he wasn't taking a life, the life of a man with sons and daughters who thought he'd come _home_." Her voice cracked towards the end, but she kept going.

"He made Brandon watch too, the sadist. Tied him to some sort of torture device and placed a sword just out of reach, then watched as Brandon choked himself in trying to reach it and save our father."

She could not bear the thought of Brandon dying that way, helpless and on his knees. Ned really couldn't bear the thought of Brandon dying at all, his vivacious personality and the bright spark in his eyes being snuffed out by a single flame. The brother who had given her piggyback rides when they were younger, and taught her how to wield a sword for the first time.

"They didn't deserve that. They didn't deserve to die that way, Robert," she sobbed.

Robert was quiet. "I'll rip the Mad King and Rhaegar Targaryen to shreds, Ned. We'll get Lyanna back, I promise."

He hesitated, and then continued, "Jon told me not to tell you, that you still need time, but I don't think he knows you all that well, Ned. You're not some delicate thing to be coddled; you have a will of iron."

"The Mad King has demanded my head and your brother's, the new lord of Winterfell."

Eddara blinked, her eyes still bleary. "What?"

"Jon refused, of course. He raised his banners for us, Ned. We're going to war."

War. The realm was going to bleed for her sister's and Rhaegar's folly, just as father and Brandon had.

She was furious at Rhaegar, of course. She always had been, but for the first time, Ned was enraged at Lyanna. Her sister had wanted freedom, and look what it had cost them.

She wiped the tears from her eyes. The time for crying was over. They were at war now, and Ned would do everything she could to ensure that what remained of her family got out of this alive.

Even if it meant running a sword through Rhaegar Targaryen's heart.

_The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives, her father's voice whispered._

"I have to get back to Benjen," Ned said suddenly. How had she forgotten about her little brother? Her little brother, now the lord of Winterfell, with no one to comfort him.

A spark of hope was ignited. Perhaps, if she could reunite with just one wolf, they could all still make it out of this alive.

She told Jon Arryn that she wanted to go back to her brother in the Council room, later, in front of all the vassal lords that had raised their banners in the Vale. He agreed, adding that Robert was already preparing to go back to the Stormlands to gather his forces. When Ned left the room, the lords continued poring over their battle plans, arguing in loud voices and advocating one strategy over the other.

This is where wars are won, she realized. Not in the actual battles or in the death of the enemy, but with heated discussions in strategy rooms and secret alliances forged in the midst of skirmishes.

She and Robert departed at daybreak with a few men. They hugged, one last time, and Ned doesn't make the same mistake that she made with Brandon. She embraced Robert tightly, like she'd never let him go, and memorized his features. His stormy blue eyes, his hair, blacker than the night sky. Who knew if she'd ever see him again?

She and two other men left for Gulltown. Unfortunately, Lord Grafton, some minor lord, had betrayed Jon and blockaded the ports, forcing Eddara to make the perilous journey to Winterfell through the Mountains of the Moon.

They climbed the mountains, sweat pouring down Eddara's face and back. Atleast she had the good sense to wear breeches for the journey. When they stopped halfway through for a break, she was suddenly reminded of the time she and Robert had attempted to scale these mountains for the first time.

Well, she was certainly a lot higher than five feet, now. Ned laughed at her silent jest, and the men with her looked at her as if she'd gone insane. Perhaps she had. Either way, Ned held onto the precious memories of her childhood like a man dying of thirst held onto a cup of water.

The journey was treacherous, and it was almost as if everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. One of the men almost fell off the mountain and crushed his head on the rocks. Ironically enough, they almost did die of thirst before reaching the Fingers, not having packed enough for the unexpected detour to Winterfell.

When they reached their destination, almost every fisherman refused to help the "rebel scum" except one, and he charged a fee twice as large as the others. Eddara paid it, her bleeding fingers, worn from all the climbing, scraping the bottom of her satchel for coins.

Finally, the fisherman rowed to the Neck, where her old friend, Howland Reed, stood to greet her. She leaped into his arms in delight, and greeted his new wife, Jyana, with the same enthusiasm. They talked and reminisced about Brandon and the tourney, and if she really concentrated, Ned could almost forget there was a war raging on.

Their stay with the crannogmen didn't last long, however, because Benjen was waiting in Winterfell and her people were counting on her. Howland took her along one of the many hidden trails he had told her about, carefully leading Ned through the Neck and Mount Cailin. She took a horse all the way back to Winterfell, the frigid winds whipping her hair and stinging her cheek.

But Eddara was a Stark. She was made to survive the chill, and she did.

They arrived in Winterfell. Benjen was standing atop the barracks, surveying the northernmen who were already training for battle, just as father had done. His face was more weary, his eyes solemn, and Ned couldn’t help but feel as if he was already a man-grown, not a boy of barely fifteen summers.

The lines melted off his face, though, upon laying eyes on her as she got off her horse. Benjen went down to greet her, running into her arms like a child. Eddara embraced him with equal desperation as they sunk to the floor, two Starks reunited at last.

"Eddara, you're here, you're alive! After Father, and B-B-Brandon, I thought-"

"Hush, little one, it'll be alright. I'm here now, I'm here."

Eddara had always been better at comforting others than dealing with her own tumultuous emotions, so she patted Benjen on the back and whispered assurances in his ear, even if nothing would ever be alright again.

It's clear that Benjen was overwhelmed and out of his depth, so Eddara took over his duties and acted as his regent. It was fitting, in a way; of all her siblings, it was Ned who paid the most attention to her maesters.

She managed the accounts, dealt with the complaints of the smallfolk and nobles alike, and stocked up the armory. When the time was right, she too raised her banners, and there was not a single vassal lord who refused her call for justice.

They did disagree, though, on how she wished to pursue that justice.

"A woman as the commander of our armies? Nonsense, what's wrong with your brother? Is he a cripple?" A Karstark lord asked sarcastically, and Ned could see the northern lords shuffle uneasily.

"Benjen is too young and inexperienced."

"So are you!"

"I'm older than he is. I've been training with my bannermen, earning their respect and solving their problems! Woman I may be, but it is I who has been managing Winterfell for the past month, and it is I who should lead my men! I know the art of wielding weapons better than you think, my lord, and I have read enough books to understand battle tactics and strategy." Her voice was steady and strong, just as her father's once was, and she looked every single lord in the eye when she spoke.

"I want justice for my father and my brother. I do not want to be ruled by the man who viciously murdered my family. Will you stand with me, my lords, and risk life and limb to defend our lands?"

She could see grudging respect, if not total acceptance, in the eyes of her vassal lords.

"I accept Lady Eddara as my leader," Howland declared. "As do I," Maege Mormont, one of the few other female commanders in the North, stated, nodding in approval.

"Reading is not the same as actually being in the thick of a battle, girl," Rickard Karstark said half-heartedly, but he was losing support.

"Duel me, my lord, and we shall see who is more suited to battle," Eddara later challenged after the other men had cleared the room, and he accepted.

She was clever enough to make the match a private affair, and only her closest bannermen and Benjen were allowed to witness it.

Rickard Karstark fought with the ferocity of a man ten years younger. But Ned was more flexible, more intelligent when she fought, wearing him out before striking what would've been a killing blow, had it been a real battle.

She strictly forbade anyone from disclosing the outcome of the match to save Rickard any shame of being bested by a woman, and she could see the gratitude in his eyes. In the battles to come, the lord would become one of her staunches allies and defendants, and it was his support that caused the rest of the reluctant bannermen to fall in line.

They all rallied behind her, and she gradually won her bannermen's trust and respect, taking her meals with them and making sure they felt included in the decision making process when coming up with strategies. The divisions between men and women were thinner in the North, especially during wartime.

Then, of course, Hoster Tully threw a giant wrench in her plans.

********************

He showed up at Winterfell's door, with Catelyn Tully next to him, and demanded that if she wanted the Tully forces to join with the Arryns, Baratheons, and the Starks, then his daughter must be Lady of Winterfell. They argued for days, for Eddara did not want to give her younger brother away to a woman he didn't even know.

Benjen was too young, Ned realized. But in war, aren't children always the first victims? So after much debate and consulting her brother to see if he was willing, Eddara Stark warily agreed, giving her brother away like father did to her and Lyanna all those years ago. Except this time it was not because of southron ambitions; it was for their survival.

For the very first time, Ned Stark played the game.

It wouldn't be the last.

********************

The wedding was a grim affair. Neither groom nor bride seemed particularly happy, hastily stumbling through their vows in the backdrop of a war.

However, at the banquet they held afterwards, Ned spotted Benjen and Catelyn conversing quietly, and her solemn brother even managed to make Catelyn crack a smile.

"You're the best of us, little brother," Eddara told him afterwards as she danced with her brother, who spun her around in his arms. It was true, for Benjen had Brandon's sense of humor, Lyanna's rugged determination, and Eddara's dedication to duty.

His features resembled their father's the most, but there was an air of innocence to him, even now, and Ned held onto it, pressing a light kiss to Benjen's cheek.

She could not defend the rest of her wolf pack, but she would protect Benjen until the day she died.

Shouts for the bedding were called, and Eddara averted her eyes, having no desire to see her little brother as naked as his name day.

A few days later, she got the raven. While Benjen was being wedded to Catelyn, hundreds of miles away, her sister had said her vows to Rhaegar Targaryen in the Sept of Baelor on her eighteenth name day, after the crown prince had publicly announced an annulment from Elia, and she was now in King's Landing, under the 'protection' of the king.

Ned didn't even know how to feel about that.

Not dwelling on it, she decided, was the best solution.

She had a war to win.

********************

Today was the happiest day of Lyanna Stark's life.

Or atleast, it was supposed to be.

Nothing happened as she had planned. She had originally planned to marry Rhaegar in secret, but then she thought about what Ned had said to her, and decided that she wanted the the entire thing to be public, so there would be no confusion, especially after the incident with her father and her brother.

She was not a whore, despite what the Seven Kingdoms might think, nor was she heartless. Rhaegar annulled his marriage to Elia because there was no male heir, but his daughter remained a Targaryen, before Lyanna's daughters in the line of succession, and she was perfectly fine with that.

All Lyanna Stark had ever wanted was to be free, and with someone she loved.

She walked up the steps, her white dress trailing behind her, and suddenly wished that Benjen, or Ned, or someone from her side of the family was there, because walking up the steps, subject to the hateful glares of Elia Martell and the Dornish party, as well as the disapproving gaze of the entire court, she realized that she had never felt more alone.

The Mad King escorted her down the aisle, his claws digging into her arm, his breath stinking like rotting fish. Lyanna was revolted.

She remembered the days after word had reached them that Brandon and Rickard Stark were dead. She had howled and raged like the she-wolf she was, but no amount of tears or screams could bring them back to her.

Rhaegar, her silver prince, had held her as she wept, and promised her that everything would be alright, that he would supplant his father and ensure no further harm came to her family.

The prince, Lyanna reflected, made an awful lot of promises. She had begged to go home, and Rhaegar had agreed, both of them thinking it was best if they married hastily in King’s Landing and then she returned to Winterfell.

Aerys, per usual, had ruined everything. Forcing them to delay the marriage, then agitating the Arryns, Baratheons, and Starks so that they called their banners, starting a rebellion against the people she called family.

Still, she loved Rhaegar, and he loved her, so wasn't that enough?

It had to be enough, she thought, as he leaned in, his violet eyes sparkling as she kissed him in the Sept.

It had to be enough, because Brandon and Rickard had _died_ for that love, and Benjen and Eddara still might.

The Prince that was Promised, the child that would be Westeros’ last hope in an era of darkness... it had to be worth it. Yet, she couldn't ignore the sinking feeling that by attempting to save a realm, they may have just destroyed it.

Rhaegar was so gentle, so sweet and considerate, and for a while Lyanna tried her best to forget all about the rebellion, focused on how much she loved waking up next to him in the mornings and practicing with a tourney sword in the afternoons.

Now that they were back at King's Landing instead of in hiding, Rhaegar had taken the reins almost completely from his father. It was Rhaegar who heard the people's grievances, Rhaegar who trained with his men and inspired love from his people, coming back to their rooms at odd hours with dark circles around his eyes.

She tried not to blame him for being so busy all the time. It would be nice if they just had some time to themselves, but he was still a prince, and besides, Rhaegar allowed her to fight without a word of protest. Her sword was enough to keep her occupied. Actually, he let her pretty much do whatever she wanted, and the first few weeks after they married in the sept were pure bliss.

They fought for the first time only three weeks after their wedding, and it was not the last fight they had. Rhaegar practically begged her to take on the responsibilities of a princess, attending court and knitting with the wives of nobles whose support was crucial to the war.

She refused at first, done with letting people tell her what she could and could not do, so they didn't speak for a week.

It was Rhaegar who cracked first. "I'm doing everything I can to fix this mess and hold my people together. I know you don't want to, but please Lyanna, I need you to do this."

Grudgingly, Lyanna went to teas and strolls through the gardens when she'd much rather have a sword in hand, and her illusion of having a perfect marriage and living a life of freedom was shattered for the first time.

They got into another row over Rhaegar joining his men in battle earlier than expected, since he was already in King's Landing, while Lyanna remained in the keep.

"But I want to go with you! I want to see Ned and Benjen, not stay here chatting about dresses with ladies!"

Lyanna was already wroth over the fact that she'd missed Benjen's wedding, and there were rumors that Ned would have to marry to strengthen the Tully-Stark-Arryn alliance as well. Rhaegar had seemed strangely unsettled when this news had reached his ears, and he had been speeding up war preparations ever since.

Lyanna thought of Eddara's last words to her, and she wondered...

"The job of a princess is to stay with her ladies, to reassure them that everything will be alright. Ser Jaime can protect you and Elia. You do not belong on the battlefield." That remark had stung worse than any blow he could have given her.

She was furious at Rhaegar for days after that, thinking him the worst husband one could possibly have.

Then she met Queen Rhaella and took it all back.

Lyanna openly stared at the bruises that littered the queen mother's pale skin, horrified beyond belief, and whenever Rhaegar left to train with his men, not even the thick walls of the keep were enough to muffle the screams when Aerys visited his wife after burning smallfolk for petty crimes.

How could they stand it? How could the court and the nobles, dressed in finery, ignore the pain of their queen? Lyanna didn't understand a thing about this execrable place, especially not the people that inhabited it.

The only other person who wore no mask, who appeared to be as openly affected by Aerys' cruelty as Lyanna herself, was Jaime Lannister, his face ashen as Jonothor Darry whispered in his ear and held him back from following the king after an execution, when Aerys went to his wife's chambers. 

She was fairly sure that Lannister was as disillusioned with King’s Landing as she was, but there wasn’t exactly anything either of them could do about it.

Lyanna was positive her husband wasn't completely blind to what went on, though, even if he had no real way to stop it, because when Rhaella fell pregnant, before leaving King's Landing, Rhaegar suddenly demanded that his mother and Prince Viserys go to Dragonstone to deliver the baby, escorted by several loyal bannermen, even though Rhaella was nowhere close to being due. Lyanna had never seen him so adamant about anything.

No one questioned it, not even Varys, who merely shot the crown prince an undecipherable look, and whatever his son said was enough for Aerys to grudgingly allow it.

Rhaella kissed Rhaegar on the cheek, and then the woman was gone, free of her husband's madness. Lyanna desperately wished she could escape with her, but Aerys would not allow her or Elia to leave, the latter forced to remain as a hostage for Dorne's support.

The illusion broke, bit by bit, argument by argument, and Lyanna slowly realized that the Red Keep was the greatest prison in all of Westeros, with impenetrable walls that kept everyone out, and her in, alone and friendless, imprisoned with Aerys, who taunted her of her family's deaths as he clutched her arms so tightly that his fingernails dug into her skin, making her bleed.

She slapped his hand away roughly the first time he did it, and spat at his feet.

He looked at her, his eyes burning in anger, and whispered threateningly, "If you ever do that again, I'll have Ilyn Payne chop your arms off. Only the babe in your stomach keeps you safe, girl. You better hope it's a son." She could pinpoint the exact moment when all her delusions of courtly love, grand tourneys and being a chivalrous knight fell down the drain.

No prince, no sword, no tournament was worth this.

_What have we done?_

Eddara had always said she was too naive for her own good. If only she had _listened._

Ser Jaime tried his best to protect her, her and even Elia, but no one was safe from the king. Paranoia, fear, and hatred was instilled in his veins, a vicious, never-ending nightmare from which there was no escape.

Lyanna wondered if she would ever see Winterfell again in her lifetime, gaze upon its snow capped peaks and feel the chilly winds brush against her cheek. Would she get the chance to race Ned on her horse one more time? Would she ever climb a weirwood tree with Benjen again? More than anything, she wanted to visit her father's and brother's graves atleast once, if only to apologize.

_I'm sorry, Brandon. I'm sorry, papa. I would apologize a thousand times over if it would bring you back._

She still wanted Rhaegar to win Robert's Rebellion, for no matter what happened, she did not want her child to be fatherless. Besides, she was sure that Rhaegar would be a good king, a better man than his father. Whatever else his faults may be, Rhaegar loved the smallfolk, and he knew how to win the loyalty of the nobles.

Rhaegar had told her, after they eloped, in the forests outside Harrenhal when the future seemed so bright, that the whole purpose of the tourney had been to start some sort of rebellion against the king. The prince was kind, but Lyanna was starting to realize just how intelligent the man truly was.

As the days went on, and her resentment grew, it was the child that kept Lyanna sane, her possible redemption. _If it's a boy, I'll name it Brandon,_ she swore. It was an oath she intended to keep. No matter what her husband might have to say on the matter.

 _This child will grow up, and it will know better. The babe will not repeat our mistakes._ Lyanna wanted this more than anything. For her child to have a future, to grow up wiser and greater than its parents, to possibly unite them all. If Robert won, her child's future would go up in flames.

Nevertheless, Lyanna prayed everyday for Benjen and Eddara to survive this war. Rhaegar would not harm them, she knew he wouldn't. She hoped.

She prayed even more for Ned to barge through the doors of the Red Keep and stick a sword in the Mad King's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***IMPORTANT: I just wanted to tell you guys that for this chapter and the next few chapters, I’m going to explain why the fic diverges from canon and mainly how Eddara has affected that, so I highly recommend reading those parts of the notes.
> 
> Canon Divergences: Rhaegar got an annulment because Elia didn’t give him a son, but the reason why the Tower of Joy thing didn’t happen and they didn’t get the marriage annulled in secret is because Lyanna thought about what Eddara said to her, and decided she wanted to show that she still kept her honor, that she isn’t a “whore,” so she wanted the marriage to be public, demonstrating that they had nothing to hide. Because they’re now in King’s Landing and not Dorne, Rhaegar is able to train with his men and march into battle a lot sooner than in canon, drastically affecting the rebellion. Ned’s possible marriage is only spurring him to move faster. You’re going to see Targaryen troops mobilizing a lot quicker than canon and moving north, which could lead to new battles. Basically, the entire timeline of Robert’s Rebellion is being accelerated, so there’s a chance that a few battles, maybe even the Battle of the Trident, will never occur, and Robert and Rhaegar may face each sooner in a different place. Or the battle could still happen. Lots of options on the table. Also, the kingsguard won’t all guard Lyanna in King’s Landing like they did in the tower, so they’ll be with Rhaegar.
> 
> Sorry guys, I know this wasn’t my best work and it wasn’t the most exciting chapter. This chapter was a little different, where I basically had to set up Robert’s Rebellion, so this chapter was more of a transition chapter for the next one, which definitely has a lot more going on. 
> 
> This chapter was also less focused on character interactions and actual events, and more focused on the thoughts of individual characters. You have Lyanna’s illusions being shattered, and Eddara is growing more hardened by the war, not to mention both are pretty upset over Rickard and Brandon. Ned is essentially ruling the North for Benjen and has a lot of responsibility thrust on her shoulders all of a sudden, so she’s trying her best to juggle that, and you really see her determination to protect Benjen and what’s left of her family.
> 
> Lyanna, on the other hand, faces a different dilemma. Aerys has no interest in being kind to her. She’s pregnant but the father may die in battle(which Aerys is pretty much hoping for), completely isolated, disliked, and basically at Aerys’ mercy. By the way, Lyanna is an unreliable narrator and she is more biased, which is why her outlook on Rhaegar is more favorable than how Eddada views him. Speaking of which, how is everyone feeling about Lyanna at this point? Still hate her, pity her, a little bit of both? This is the first time in this fic I did a POV from someone else’s perspective other than Ned, so I hope it didn’t feel too jarring.
> 
> Rhaegar is definitely realizing the consequences of his actions too. Basically, everyone is miserable at this point, and we haven’t even gotten to the actual fighting yet.
> 
> ***To my absolutely marvellous readers, commenters, people who bookmarked or left kudos on this work, thank you so much! The response for the last chapter really surprised me, I just want you to know I’m grateful for the feedback, so please continue leaving it! Some of you guys came up with really interesting ideas in the comment section, I seriously considered having Ned follow Lyanna and Rhaegar at one point. 
> 
> A few reviewers actually inspired me to write an Arthur-Rhaegar conversation for the next chapter, so I definitely take all your ideas into account! If you have an Qs, feel free to ask, and feel free to share your thoughts on the characters like Ned and Lyanna and your predictions with me! I can’t reveal too much but here’s a snippet below:
> 
> UP NEXT: A battle, a marriage, an alliance sealed for the rebels. Meanwhile, in the loyalist camp, Arthur confronts Rhaegar.


	6. Robert’s Rebellion

War is hell.

Ned cut down another southerner, his cry echoing in her ears as blood splattered down the front of her silver armor, embellished with a wolf design with a moonstone for the eye.

The Tyrell foot soldier was her first kill, but he wouldn't be her last, in what would come to be known as the Battle of Mount Cailin.

The royal troops were mobilizing much faster than most of the other lords had thought they would, and they had launched a surprise attack on the Neck to cut off the North from its neighbors.

Which was exactly what Eddara had expected.

She had planned the stand at Mount Cailin, for the ruined fortress had never fallen. She would lead the vanguard with the Karstarks, Manderlys, and the Greystarks. House Bolton and House Mormont, with the aid of the crannogmen, would secretly circle around the army and launch surprise attacks from behind, while the rest of the vassal lords would then reinforce their main assault.

It was, all in all, a solid plan, one that took weeks to come up with.

 _Thank goodness the crannogmen are on our side,_ she thought, duelling two Targaryen bannermen. She managed to kill them with a fatal stab in the arm and thigh, respectively. Howland's men had proved to be invaluable assets, guiding the other northernmen through secret trails to surprise the enemy, whereas the southern army slipped up in the swamps and was separated in the confusion. They simply didn't know the land like the northern men did.

The campaign of guerrilla warfare had been Eddara's idea, and from the looks of it, her suggestion was paying off.

Parry. Block. Feint. Her movements became mechanical as she fought for her very survival.

She shoved a sword in another suit of armor, into the chest of a boy no more than seventeen summers, and felt a pang of regret as he fell. The clang of steel echoed everywhere around her, the chaos of weapons and war seemingly unstoppable and never ending. She heard the sound of encroaching footsteps and wearily raised her blade once more, solely focused on nothing but her bladework and the brave men fighting beside her, dying beside her.

They won the battle, and marched on towards Riverrun to join with the Tully and Arryn troops in victory.

And yet, all Ned could feel was disgust. So many lives lost, and for what?

She had never understood the glory that men spoke of in battle. To her, killing was a necessity, not a sport.

She had nightmares when she slept, dreaming of the boy who was probably only a little older than Benjen that fell on her sword. Dreaming of a battle that lasted forever, the screams of the dead burying themselves in the deep recesses on her mind.

Benjen himself was the only one that could give her comfort, but even then she was haunted by the battle. He had left Catelyn at Winterfell and traveled with his big sister, as she attempted to teach him as much about battle strategy as she could. In a few years, her little brother would be old enough to fight in an actual battle, and the thought filled her with sorrow.

Finally, they reached Riverrun.

********************

The Arryns and the Tullys cheered upon seeing her large northern force, although they seemed confused at seeing her in charge of the army.

Robert beamed upon laying eyes on her, but Jon Arryn gave her a guarded look.

"Congratulations on your victory, Eddara. It was well-earned," he said stiffly.

"Well done Neddie! You made ‘em run all the way back to the Red Keep," Robert congratulated, hugging her, and yet for some reason he wasn't looking her in the eye.

"You as well, Robert. I heard about you lifting the siege on Gulltown. Once we join our forces, the three of us can lead the assault on the loyalist forces at the Trident." Jon cleared his throat awkwardly at her statement, before beckoning her to come closer.

"Lady Eddara, may we speak with you for a moment? Alone?" Jon Arryn asked.

She nodded, and they went to Jon's solar. As he shut the door behind them, Ned questioned, "Is there something wrong?"

"Lady Eddara, while I am impressed at your victory at Mount Cailin, I am afraid you will not be accompanying us when we set out to meet the Targaryen loyalist forces."

"What? Why not? You and Robert cannot possible win the battle without the northern forces!"

"You misunderstand. The northern forces will join us; _you,_ my lady, will not. I will not have a lady joining us on the field of battle, and my bannermen nor Robert's bannermen will agree to be commanded by a woman. I understand you northerners do things differently and may have agreed because you are the eldest living Stark, but a war gets ugly when women have to fight on the battlefield, Lady Eddara." Jon was stern, but kind, and yet Ned resented him for it.

"A war is always ugly, my lord, no matter who fights in it. The northernmen have picked me to lead them, and I have worked for months to gain their respect. Who else could possibly lead them?"

"Lord Stark, of course. I believe you brought your brother with you? He will lead the men into battle, and the northerners will certainly follow him."

Ned's blood ran cold.

"Benjen is a _child._ A child still learning battle tactics and developing his fighting skills. He is not ready."

"No one is ever ready for war."

In desperation, Ned turned to Robert. "Please, Robert, reason with them! You know I can fight, we've been training together since we were thirteen!"

Robert glanced at a disapproving Jon, and shook his head gravely. "That was all before the rebellion, Eddara, back when we were just children. This is serious, and Jon's right. A woman has no place on the battlefield. Stay here with the Tully guards, they'll keep you safe."

"I don't need anyone to keep me safe! I'm the one protecting everyone else, including Benjen! I will not let another brother of mine die, Robert."

"He won't die, I give you my word. I'll look after the boy."

"Well, that settles it." Lord Arryn clapped his hands together. "Lord Stark will take control of the northern forces and train with them here for a few days, and then we'll march south."

Ned slumped against the wall, knowing that there was no changing the mind of Jon, a man who was stubborn to a fault, and Benjen would undoubtedly agree to do his duty as a lord.

"Do you atleast have a battle plan?"

"Yes."

"Can I see it?"

"No."

She snapped. "You can remove me from my post, a post that I earned, as a battle commander, Lord Arryn, Lord Baratheon. You can force me in a dress, put me in a tower, and ask me to play the part of the frightened little maiden, but you cannot change the fact that I won the Battle of Moat Cailin. It was my strategy that won us the day, and my victory is something you cannot take away from me."

She left the room in a hurry, not wanting to look at Jon or Robert for another second longer than she had to. Unfortunately, the latter ran after her, stopping her in her tracks.

"Wait, Eddara... just wait. I'm sorry I didn't fight for you back there, but truth is, I already tried talking to Jon and the bannermen, and they wouldn't hear it. I'm sorry, girl, I know you can fight with the best of 'em, but maybe Jon's right on this one. Maybe you'll be better off in Riverrun, comforting the other ladies, away from all the bloodshed."

"I am not a little girl, Robert, to wail at the sight of blood. I have killed men-grown," she replied frostily. She thought of her little brother waking up in a cold sweat, tormented by the souls of the dead, just as Ned was now, and she only grew more incensed.

"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come." She left, and this time Robert had the good sense to not follow her.

Later that night, she informed her bannermen of the change in leadership. Eddara pulled out her sword, and raised it in support of her brother. "To Lord Benjen Stark! May he guide you to victory in this battle, and all the battles that follow."

The other northerners raised their swords in support, and the lords immediately swarmed Benjen, introducing themselves. Ned knew that her brother needed to get to know the lords on his own, without her presence, so she decided to retire for the night.

"Pardon me, Lord Bolton."

Roose blinked at her and moved to the side, but as she moved past him, he cleared his throat.

"Atleast we finally have a real commander," Roose Bolton spoke up, smirking at her.

"I mean no offense, my lady. But your place is under a man, not on a battlefield. Your father knew that."

Ned's blood boiled, and she straightened up.

"If I were you, Lord Bolton, I would watch your words. Benjen may be the lord, and Catelyn his lady, but _I_ am the wolf maiden of Winterfell, and wolves do not bow to _sheep._ "

********************

She trained with Benjen from sunrise to sundown, perfecting her brother's swordfighting capabilities as best as she could. She taught him everything about battle tactics that she knew, and worked with the bannermen to make sure Benjen was protected at all costs.

It did nothing to quell the feeling of unease as she watched Benjen be disarmed by Rodrik Cassel. He put up a good fight, but it was all happening too soon.

He needed more _time._

But he did not have any, and apparently, neither did Eddara.

_She woke up screaming that night, as men in Targaryen colors plunged their weapons into Benjen's body, her name being the last word on her brother's lips as he fell to the ground._

********************

She's just finished a session with Benjen.

Ned's hair was coming out of its messy braid, but she didn’t mind too much. Her white shirt stuck to her skin from the sweat, her cedar colored breeches looser and freer than her regular woolen skirts.

"My lady? May I come in?" Jon Arryn stood in the doorway, leveling her a flinty stare.

"You may, Lord Jon."

He entered the room, sitting on one of the chairs next to the mahogany table, and Ned took the seat across from him.

"I apologize if I sounded unreasonable, regarding your dismissal as a general of our forces. It was not my intention, I assure you."

"Why are you here?" Eddara had always considered herself a straightforward woman with no time for games. Her brother was going to risk his life in battle, her sister was hundreds of miles away, and as much as Ned condemned the latter for her selfish decision, she very much wanted to see Lyanna again. She was still a wolf, after all, and whatever else her flaws may be, Lyanna had never been _cruel._

"I come here with a proposition, Lady Stark. You may not fight in battle, but there are still other ways you can help the rebel cause, other ways you can fulfill your duty."

"The Stark-Tully-Arryn alliance is fragile at best, and needs to be cemented by the strongest pact of them all: marriage. Lord Hoster has refused to fight any longer until I marry his daughter, Lysa. I have agreed."

"However, that makes the alliance between the Starks and the Arryns tenuous, at best, and my bannermen are beginning to question why they should come to your aid. Since Elbert Arryn was killed at the hand of the Mad King, my new heir is Denys Arryn. I would like to propose a marriage alliance between Denys and yourself."

Ned was stunned, and had to take a moment to catch her breath. "Denys... why didn't you go to the _Lord of Winterfell_ with this proposition, since you clearly believe a lady should not be involved in such things?" she asked mockingly, although the effect was ruined by her shaky breath, and the way her brain screamed, _not again._

"Benjen may be lord of Winterfell, but you are its lady, Eddara. It's clear that you manage its internal affairs. Besides, this decision is one that must be made by _you."_

"I recognize that you and I are no longer as close as we once were, but if there is anything that you have learned from your time at the Vale, it is the meaning of honor and duty, Ned. You always paid attention and took my lessons to heart more than my heirs, more than even Robert."

"It is your responsibility to help your people win this war, and this marriage could be what ensures our victory. I am prepared to do my part. Are you willing to do yours?"

Ned was silent for the longest time.

So, it all came back to this. Weddings and a marriage to a stranger. Of course, she should have known.

A lady was all Eddara Stark could ever be, the only role she was ever meant to play, a pawn in a larger game.

If she was younger and bolder, perhaps she would have protested. But Aegon, she was _tired_. Tired and afraid.

Her nights were sleepless, as Ned spent them stargazing, desperately trying to calm her racing heart, trying to forget the sound of a soldier's dying breaths, they way the blood splattered across her armor. The chaos, the madness, the _suffering._

She just wanted it to _end._

This might be the only way she could contribute meaningfully to the war effort, from a logical perspective, and she was nothing if not sensible.

She thought of Lyanna, a princess in King's Landing, married to the prince of her dreams. Some women were lucky. Others were not.

"I know my duty."

Jon Arryn nodded, and the betrothal was sealed, just like that.

********************

Targaryen banners fluttered in the wind. Two men stood atop a hill overlooking the forest, surveying their men. One was dressed in the unmistakable silver of kingsguard armor, while the other wore a red tunic, embroidered with onyx dragons.

"Have you heard?"

Arthur shook his head, staring at Rhaegar curiously.

"Our spies report that Lady Eddara is betrothed to Denys Arryn, and Lady Lysa is betrothed to Lord Jon Arryn."

Arthur frowned. Ned hadn't seemed too happy with her betrothal to Elbert Arryn, but perhaps his cousin was of a better sort. He certainly hoped so. As a kingsguard, he didn't take much interest in women, but he had grown fond of the quiet, unassuming Stark. There was an air of mystery to her, and her strict adherence to a code of morals had intrigued him in Harrenhal, a rare commodity in Westeros. Either way, though, this was bad news for the crown.

"That will greatly strengthen their alliance."

"I know it will, but there isn't much we can do about it from here."

Rhaegar looked away in the distance as Targaryen soldiers walked by them, bowing to their prince. They were currently making camp in the forest, but Arthur knew that they would move soon.

"So is it the alliance that bothers you, or the idea of Lady Stark's marriage?"

Rhaegar's head snapped back to the kingsguard knight in shock. Arthur didn't blame him. It was the first time he'd brought it up.

"Is there something you would like to get off your chest?"

The kingsguard hesitated. "Permission to speak freely?"

"You're my best friend, Arthur. Of course."

"I think you and Lyanna are reckless idiots, and what you did was dishonorable. Granted, she's younger, so she has an excuse, but you should've known better."

Rhaegar wore an unreadable expression on his face as he continued.

"I would die for you, Rhaegar. I would fall on my sword if you asked it of me, and I would do it because I believe in the man that you are, and the king that you will one day become."

"You're the prince that inspires your troops by fighting on the front lines of every battle, in the vanguard, even when you know that it'll likely get you killed. You train with your men, and you visit the smallfolk in Flea Bottom with that damned harp of yours, playing to anyone and everyone who wants to listen."

"You genuinely care about your people, which is a miracle considering your father is _Aerys._ With all those books you've read, I would think that you're a lot smarter that the rest of us too."

"Which is why, for the life of me, I cannot figure out why you ran away with Lyanna Stark. It just isn't _you._ Especially when it was obvious that you were in love with her sister."

"It was obvious to you because you know me, Arthur," Rhaegar interjected.

"As for Lyanna... it's complicated."

"We have time."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"What are friends for?" Arthur jested, even though he wasn't smiling.

"Besides, I know you'll tell me, because you're not Aerys. If you were, you’d have had my head chopped off by now."

Rhaegar sighed.

"I didn't plan on it. Any of it. That first day, at the tourney, when I saw Lyanna, there was this instant attraction. Everything happened so fast, and so easily."

"Then, I met Eddara... and it changed. I stopped spending time with anyone else, even her sister. What I felt for Lyanna was attraction, and what I felt for Elia was fondness, but what I grew to feel for Eddara... that was deeper, Arthur. Deeper than anything I've ever felt."

"I didn't understand why until I remembered the prophecy. The song of ice and fire. It was me and her; I was so sure of it. But I didn't ask Ned because of the prophecy. I asked her to run away, to marry me after I got an annulment, because I loved her."

"And then she shot you down."

"She did. I didn't know what to do after that. I thought she'd returned my feelings, I thought... Originally, I was just going to leave the tourney, figure things out when I returned to King's Landing. And then Lyanna was there afterwards, telling me that she loved me, begging me to take her away from Robert Baratheon, and I couldn't help but sympathize with her."

"Ned had turned me away, and I thought maybe Lyanna was the ice all along, remembering all the moments we shared before I met her sister. I did like her, so who was to say that it couldn't become something more, in time? Maybe I had been wrong, maybe it was Lyanna that I would actually love, maybe..." Rhaegar trailed off.

"But she was betrothed, and Rickard Stark isn't the kind of man to break a betrothal, even if I could get my marriage to Elia annulled. Time was short, and we were desperate, so Lyanna asked me to take her away, and decided that we should elope, to which I agreed. I know it was rash, Arthur, but it wasn't without reason..."

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted to— never mind that now. In hindsight, the situation could've been handled better. I _should've_ handled it better," the prince admitted.

The kingsguard knight sensed nothing but truth in Rhaegar's words, and yet... his prince was holding something back. There was one more motive other than prophecies and feelings that he was reluctant to state outright, but Arthur decided to ignore that in favor of a far more important question.

"What about Elia? And Ned?" He kept his tone respectful, but Arthur was not afraid to push, either.

"I know I made mistakes, and Elia deserved better than some hasty annulment, but atleast Rhaenys is still legitimate. The Dornish situation needs to be taken care of, and I do plan on making reparations to the mother of my only child. As for Ned... I didn't realize you knew her."

Rhaegar's eyes flashed with curiosity, not maliciousness, but Arthur stiffened anyway.

"It just seems... it's just terrible, that's all. What's happened to her family because of all this."

"It is. I didn't mean for it, Arthur, you know I would never have done that to Lord Stark and his heir if I had been there."

"But you weren't there. I wasn't there. Lyanna Stark wasn't there, she was still in hiding with you. No one was there when they should have been, and Aerys murdered two lords in cold blood. How many people are paying for our mistakes?" Guilt seeped into his voice.

Sword of the Morning or not, Arthur had his flaws, but being a hypocrite was not one of them. He had helped Rhaegar and Lyanna, had trusted that his prince knew what he was doing, had ultimately put his faith in his best friend. They had all made mistakes from which there was no coming back.

"Too many, Arthur. Far too many." Rhaegar shot a despondent look onto the horizon.

"But I'll fix this. I'll reward the Dornish for their support in battle, look after Lyanna when we get back, and try to make it work for the sake of the child... my wife deserves that much. I'll make it all right, for the people of the realm, or I'll die trying." The prince's expression changed to one of determination.

The kingsguard gave him a grim smile. This was the Rhaegar he knew. He may not agree with all of his decisions, but Rhaegar was still the kind of man who would love his people, and swear to do right by them, to rectify his mistakes. He was still his friend.

"If you die, it's either Aerys or Robert Baratheon that will end up on the throne. Aerys will likely raze Westeros to the ground, and Baratheon... I know men like him, I've fought alongside them for years. Men like that are built to fight, not rule."

"I know you're willing to die, but I certainly hope you don't."

"We'll see soon enough, won't we?" Rhaegar responded.

"We will."

********************

Ned wore her hair down in an effort to look somewhat decent for her betrothed.

Denys Arryn, with his fiery red hair and ice-blue eyes, cut an impressive figure. Yet, she was reminded of Elbert the moment she looked at him.

He scowled at her, much like his cousin had, except he did not even try to hide his displeasure at her plain appearance, and that was when Eddara knew that this union would be anything but happy. She made sure to remember all her courtesies though, offering refreshments and making polite conversation.

At the end, none of it mattered anyway. It was an arrangement that she would not back out of, and neither would he, so they happily avoided one another for the rest of their days until the wedding.

To Eddara's dismay, the wedding came up much sooner than expected. Her handmaidens were only given a week to pick a dress and sew her maiden's cloak.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, neither Robert nor Benjen would be there to give her away. They would start ahead a few days early with their troops, as well as some of the Tully and Arryn bannermen, to intercept Rhaegar at the Trident and scout out the terrain. The remaining Tully and Arryn forces would meet up with them right after the wedding.

There are no more breeches, no more swords for Eddara Stark. She took her meals with the ladies of Riverrun, perfecting the technique of sleeping with her eyes open whenever they went into a conversation about the texture of Lysene silk. When she was not meeting other ladies, she was in fittings with her handmaidens, as they discussed the train and the style of the dress.

"Jeyne, you could put me in the most extravagant gown in Westeros. It would not fix _this_ ," Ned said, gesturing to her body.

"Nor would it fix how my betrothed feels about me. Just try your best, alright?"

"Yes, my lady."

She collapsed on her bed afterwards.

"Long day?" The bed dipped next to her as Benjen sat down, looking at her in concern.

"You could say that. How are your lessons coming along?"

"Well, I guess... Ned, I'm not _ready_."

"I know, sweetling. I know."

They laid there for a while, before Benjen piped up, "I get so angry at her, sometimes. For abandoning us, for running off and causing this mess in the first place. But then, I remember how unhappy she was, and how much I miss her... I just want our wolf pack to be whole again, Ned."

"I want us to all be back in Winterfell. I want you to be happy too, not chained to some pompous prat like Denys who won't treat you half as well as you deserve. You deserve someone who loves you."

"No man will ever love me, Benjen. _Love_ is something that only the maidens in the songs get to have. Atleast this way I can help the rebel cause. I will do what I must." She gave her spiel with all the poise and confidence she could muster, even as her traitorous brain whispered of a man who confessed to exactly what she denied.

A man who was now married to her sister.

Before her little brother could interject, Eddara asked, "How is Catelyn? I'm sorry that you were pushed into that."

"It's a better match than you and Denys. We get along well enough, and I think maybe one day, in the future, we can grow to love one another, or atleast hold a measure of fondness for each other."

"Good. I'm happy for you, sweetling."

Benjen stirred, turning towards her. "Do you remember when we were really young? You, me, Brandon and Lyanna dreamt of climbing the Wall and living amongst the wildlings and the freefolk. You and Lyanna would've been spearwives, Brandon was the raider, and I was the bowman."

"We should've run, Ned. Should've run and never looked back."

"Too late now."

They both started cracking up at that, because indeed, it was _far too late_ , and they kept on laughing until Ned's stomach started to hurt and her cheek muscles became pained for stretching for far too long. She didn’t know why they are laughing so hard; it wasn't even that funny.

Eddara supposed that it was the stress of the upcoming events that has finally gotten to them.

Benjen tucked his head into the crook of her neck, and she leaned her head over his, closing her eyes, clasping one of his hands in her own as they took comfort in each other's warmth. They were the Stark siblings, and there was nothing they could not face together.

It was when they separated that everything started to fall apart.

********************

Benjen departed in the morning. Eddara silently entered the room in which her brother was getting ready. Wordlessly, she helped him with the straps of his armor, interlocking the leather chain with the hooks on his chestplate before draping a grey cloak over his shoulders.

They hugged with a desperation and ferocity that wasn't there before. Ned committed everything to memory: the smile lines on Benjen's face, his laughing grey eyes, straggly black hair, so smiliar to her own, the way the corners of his mouth quirked up when he grinned.

"Winter is coming, brother," she said solemnly, and that was the only thing she could bring herself to say.

_This is not a goodbye. I will see him again._

She hugged Robert too, having forgiven him a while back for not supporting her. "Protect him," she requested, and he nodded grimly.

"You look after yourself, Ned. Give Denys a good kick in the nuts if he tries anything, alright?"

"Of course, Robert."

"I still can't believe you have to marry him. He's even worse than Elbert! Seven hells, you have bad luck with men."

"You know I'd marry you if I could, just to spare you the burden of dealing with that prat for the rest of your life, but I guess that's not how it works."

Eddara laughed. She couldn’t imagine being married to Robert. Nevertheless, some part of her knew that it would never really work. Robert was a brother to her; that bond went much deeper than marriage ever could.

Robert gave her a half smile and chuckled with her, but it turned into a solemn frown as he mounted his horse and rode away.

Ned felt a brief flash of concern for her friend. Ever since Lyanna's kidnapping, Robert hadn’t been himself, rage simmering in his irises everytime she saw him, and he seemed so desperate to get her back. He had started drinking more, whoring more...his entire personality had grown darker, more jaded, and it worried her.

It scared her, but it did not surprise her, this new, rash, angry Robert, despite his charisma whenever he was around his men. War had twisted everyone and everything beyond recognition.

Then, Benjen was gone, riding away into the hills on Winter, Eddara's horse, which she hoped would bring him luck.

Mere days later, she prepared to say her vows to Denys Arryn.

********************

Her dress felt lighter than a cloud, woven from some gauzy material and thin, white silks. The bodice was cinched in the middle, showing off her slender waist. Chiffon sleeves draped her arms, hiding the cuts and faint scars that she received in the battle from view. Her dress trailed behind her, and while the billowing skirt was rather plain, the bodice was stitched with light golden threads in the shapes of swirling designs. The entire thing was too big though, and she almost felt as if she was drowning in it.

She held a bouqet of red roses in her hand, and there was a rose tying together two strands of her hair at the back, coming down in a single strand of braided hair. Not a winter rose, though. Eddara never wanted to see another winter rose again.

Her handmaidens fixed some latent threads and completed some last minute lacework. Her heart practically thumping out of her chest, Ned distracted herself by looking over to Lysa Tully.

The girl was even younger than Ned, and her face was pale, her fingers trembling, and tears were slipping down her cheeks. She was far too young for a man as old as Jon Arryn, who was forty six years her senior, older than even her father, but for all her disagreements with her former mentor, Eddara knew that he would treat her kindly.

"He won't harm you, Lady Lysa. He'll want an heir, of course, but Jon will never force you to do anything. He will respect you," Ned told her, trying to reassure the girl when the handmaidens all left.

"I just- he's so much older, and I don't-" Lysa wrung her hands, her eyes nervously darting towards Eddara, silently willing her to understand.

And she does understand, Ned realized, as she took Lysa's hands into her own. "I do not want my marriage to Lord Denys any more than you want yours, Lady Lysa. Believe me, you are not the first woman to be afraid on her wedding day, nor will you be the last."

They clutched each other, finding kindred spirits in one another as the clock ticked down.

"Denys is an idiot," the red haired woman piped up, and Ned chuckled. Oh, she _liked_ this girl.

"Well, we shall face this together then, with our heads held high. We are ladies of two of the most noble houses in Westeros, and we shall not let them forget it, eh Lysa?"

She giggled slightly at Ned's exaggerated demeanor, but the smile was wiped off her face and Ned's when Hoster Tully entered the room.

The wedding took place in a large hall built from grey marble, with some Tully and Arryn bannermen serving as the audience. Lord Hoster walked his daughter down the aisle, and Ned was proud that not a single tear escaped from Lysa's eye as she walked up the podium to greet Jon, her smile fixed in place.

It was her turn.

There were several bannermen who offered to walk Eddara down, but she refused them all, walking alone and isolated, as she's always been. This is a journey she must make on her own. And she did make it, with her head tilted upwards, projecting an image of confidence that contrasted sharply with her sweaty palms and racing heart.

This was it, the moment she had spent her whole life trying to avoid. Her maiden cloak trailed behind her, a grey garment with a wolf somewhat sloppily stitched on. It was plain and simple, just like her, and ultimately it was what Ned loved best out of everything.

It was a shame that Denys would cast it off.

 _No, he may cast it off, but I will always be Eddara Stark, not Arryn, never Arryn!_ Her mind protested as she ascended the steps, clasping Denys' cold hands in her own.

_They can take everything else, but they cannot take my name._

"We are gathered here today..." the septon began, spouting some nonsense that Ned didn’t care to listen to. She exchanged silent glances with Lysa instead, until the septon held out two pieces of cloth.

He tied Lysa and Jon together with one, and Denys and Eddara with the other. Oh, how she longed to rip it off! Throw it away like Lyanna would have and swear that she would be tied to no one.

But she was not Lyanna. She was Eddara, the dutiful daughter of the late Rickard Stark, so she rested her wrist upon Denys'.

"Father. Mother. Maiden..." they repeated the seven names that she had memorized.

"I am hers, and she is mine. From this day, till the end of my days." Denys annunciated his lines perfectly, and so did Jon and even Lysa, whose hand was still shaking.

And yet, the words got stuck in her throat, almost as if they were cutting off the air from her lungs. Everyone looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to say the same words that Denys had, except with "his" instead of "hers," and wondering why she had not done so already.

What followed was the most awkward two minutes of Ned's life, as she attempted to force the words out and sounded more like a cat being strangled. Denys leaned in and quietly hissed in her ear, "Just say the damn words already!"

For the life of her, she could not get them out.

_You have to do this. Come on Ned, you have to do this._

She took a deep breath, but before she could try again, a soldier shoved the oak doors of the hall wide open and ran up to the foot of the podium.

"Message! I have an urgent message for Lord Arryn and Lord Tully!"

He was puffing and panting, hands braced on his knees.

What surprised Ned, though, and everyone else in the hall, was the arrow sticking out of the man's back.

Everyone simply stared, too stunned to move. Eddara was the first to act, running back down the steps as her maiden cloak fluttered behind her, yanking the arrow out of the man's back as blood dripped down her fingers and onto her dress.

The man grunted in pain before slumping over and giving Eddara a grateful look. He handed a piece of paper over to her, but she stuffed it into the lining of her maiden-cloak, wanting to hear from the messenger himself.

"What is it? What is your message?"

"The Stark-Baratheon force has fallen at Stone Hedge, as have all the Tully and Arryn forces that accompanied them. Lord Baratheon and Lord Stark were ambushed in the small village; the royal forces were farther north than previously reported. Targaryen, Martell, and Tyrell forces are on their way here as we speak. We must flee!"

Ned's heart stopped. "What about my brother? What about Robert?"

The soldier hesitated, refusing to look Eddara in the eye.

"Robert lives, although he has been gravely wounded by Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur, who were with Rhaegar at the time. His forces are demolished, as are the majority of the Starks, Arryns, and Tullys, and Storm's End will be unable to hold out under the siege. Robert's Rebellion is over, my lady. We have lost."

"What of my brother?" she repeated more urgently, even though she knew what the answer was.

"Lord Benjen fought bravely... and he died with honor, my lady."

 _Honor._ The word tasted bitter in her mouth, after everything she had lost. She crumpled to the floor, hollow and broken like a husk.

With a hysterical cry, Eddara realized that she’d lost her entire family to dragons. Lyanna, Rickard, Brandon, and now Benjen. They had spent so much time worrying about the snows when they should have been more wary of the flames.

Then, hundreds of soldiers draped in Targaryen colors burst through the doors of the hall, and all hell broke loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, weddings in Westeros suck. Enough said.
> 
> Canon Divergences: So, this is the chapter where things really start to stray from canon. Because the rebellion is on an accelerated timeline with troops mobilizing faster, you have the battle of Mount Cailin, where Targaryen loyalists sent a few forces to kind of scout out the terrain in the North. Honestly, this was primarily included so Ned could fight in an actual battle. The wedding still happens, but with Eddara instead, and Lysa at this point in the timeline isn’t as crazy as she was when she got older, after all her failed pregnancies, although she still likes Littlefinger. I know the real question here is why Rhaegar intercepted Robert and defeated him before they reached the Trident, and that will be explained next chapter.
> 
> Also, there will be some angst on Ned’s part in the next few chapters, but things should lighten up from there. About Benjen’s death... well, it’s what the fandom is known for. I'm going to be honest, even when writing this chapter, I felt it was a lot darker, with the battle, the wedding gone wrong, and the first major character death(I guess Benjen is technically a minor character like Brandon was, but I still felt worse when I was writing about his death, especially after writing his scenes with Ned, but a voice that sounded suspiciously like GRRM told me not to pull that punch, so I decided to go through with it). Either way, Ned’s going to take it hard. Even in canon, Ned was willing to lie and give up his honor, which meant everything, for the sake of his family, so this will haunt Eddara like Lyanna’s death did in canon.
> 
> Also, about Rhaegar and Arthur’s conversation, I just want to make it clear that there is another motive for Rhaegar and his actions which will be revealed in a few chapters. Although even he has realized he was an idiot at this point.
> 
> On a lighter note, I do like writing minor POVS, I have a few different POVs planned out besides Ned like Jaime, are there any you guys would like to see? Any overall thoughts on the characters and their motivations? Your feedback is my inspiration, so I’d be grateful if you left some!
> 
> UP NEXT: Eddara comes face to face with the Silver Prince.


	7. Kingslayer v. Kinslayer

The screams of men and women filled the air, as dozens of soldiers invaded the premises. Shocked cries were followed by the sound of swords being unsheathed, as the few Tully and Arryn bannermen prepared to battle the Targaryen men who outnumbered them twenty to one.

Ned was dimly aware of Denys and Lord Jon grabbing their weapons and running from the altar, desperately trying to rally their men.

Everything was distant and hazy for her. The colors and the sounds all blurred together, creating a veil of fog over Eddara's eyes, as she struggled to focus despite the overwhelming grief she felt.

It all moved in slow motion. The clang of axes and swords as they clash, the yells of men about to do battle for the last time, the dropping of bodies on the floor.

_Benjen, my sweetling. What I wouldn't give to hold you in my arms again. Atleast you are somewhere where no one can hurt you anymore._

And for that, she was grateful. If there was anything that Ned had learned, it was that sometimes life was a hundred times more painful than death.

Perhaps he was smiling down at her right now, his invisible prescence enveloping her in his arms. Still kneeling on the floor, she closed her eyes, imagined the deep tenor of his voice as he whispered soothing remarks, his childlike face beaming up at her as he disarmed her for the first time.

He hadn't known then that she had let him win, because his happiness was incomparable to any victory.

It was Lady Lysa who snapped her out of her reverie, shaking her shoulders. "Lady Eddara! Lady Stark! I know you are grief-stricken, but we must leave now! Quickly, before they catch us!"

There was a hint of panic in her voice, and Ned knew why.

However, while the other women screamed in terror, Ned did not see the soldiers forcing themselves on anyone. Instead, they were rounded up and led away from the fighting, and Eddara could see several kingsguard knights instructing their men to leave the defenseless women and children untouched, and only capture the unarmed men, not kill.

Of course. There was no honor in killing the defenseless, or harming innocent women and children. Rhaegar's men were certainly an honorable sort for that, she wouldn’t deny it. Ned may have even appreciated the sentiment if her heart was not burdened with sorrow and hot, blinding rage at losing her little brother.

She laid motionless on the floor, still too numb to do anything but lay there as Lysa tugged on her arm insistently. The Tully girl should've run by now if she had any wits about her, Ned reflected, but Lysa seemed strangely reluctant to leave her behind.

Suddenly, Lysa desisted in her efforts, and Ned saw why. A Targaryen soldier, cloathed in crimson, was approaching them. Eddara realized that they were the only two ladies left in the hall of men, fighting for their lives, as both of them had been near the altar, and therefore, farther from the doors than everyone else.

Something clicked in her then.

She would not be taken as a hostage to be bartered for.

Her instincts kicked in, and Ned scrambled to her feet, narrowly dodging a blow to the head as she picked up the nearest sword, lying in a pool of blood.

Her fingers, sticky and wet with the substance, grasped the bejeweled hilt easily, as she got into a battle stance, pushing Lysa behind her. The soldier raised his bushy eyebrows in amusement, but the smile was wiped off his face when Eddara lunged towards him and nearly took his head clean off his shoulders.

Ned dodged a parry and landed a fatal blow through the man's gut, killing him instantly.

She felt nothing.

"Lady Eddara!" Lysa gasped, staring at the sword in her arms. "What on earth... where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Does it matter? Come on, Lysa. We must not be captured."

The lady stared at the man's corpse in horror, before gradually nodding in agreement. "The stables are probably occupied by loyalist forces now, so our best bet is the woods. I saw a passageway over there, I think that it leads to the forest. There may be some villagers willing to shelter us if we make it through."

"Lead the way."

Lysa ran to a side corridor in the hall, Eddara locking blades with and striking down any man who crossed their path. It was difficult with the dress, so she ripped off the shoes, sleeves, and the bottom part of the skirt from her knees down, loosening the threads on her bodice and running barefoot with her maiden cloak still trailing behind her, uncaring of how indecent she must look. Atleast the garment was loose fitting.

All of a sudden, the Targaryen men began shouting, and a figure emerged from the entrance of the hall.

"All hail the heir to the Iron Throne!"

"Hail!"

Rhaegar Targaryen stood tall in ruby-encrusted armor with grey plating, his silver hair tied back, and his violet eyes calm but fierce. He grasped an ash colored blade, fitting for a dragon prince, and Eddara's heart stopped beating in her chest.

It was the first time she had laid eyes on him since Harrenhal, and all she felt was fear, a desperation to not be recognized, to escape.

"Protect your prince!" Ser Barristan yelled, and an influx of soldiers immediately moved to guard Rhaegar as they battled the remnants of the Tully-Arryn force in the giant hall and outside, around the perimeter.

To Ned's dismay, Rhaegar actually fought valiantly, cutting through scores of men with finesse as his men cheered him on.

Abruptly, the Silver Prince looked up, and Targaryen-indigo eyes met Stark-grey orbs. It was a glance that only lasted a moment, yet still sent goosepumps down her spine as Lysa pulled her into the corridor, opening the doors to freedom.

They exited the hidden hallway, a cool night breeze flittering through their hair, a chill sweeping under their light dresses. The tall grasses, tipped with dew from a rainfall a few hours earlier, scratched at Ned's bare legs as she raced towards the bushes, trepidation growing in her stomach.

_He had seen her._

Briefly, she slowed down for Lysa to catch up.

"Come on, sweetling, we're almost there." Ned gripped Lysa's hand in her own and prepared to run once more.

"Rushing off?"

********************

Eddara slowly turned around, clutching her sword in her right hand and releasing Lysa. Rhaegar stood a few feet away from her, fingering his own blade.

"Get out of my way."

"I don't think so, Ned." The way he said her name with so much familiarity irked her, and she got into a fighting stance.

"My apologies for interrupting the wedding." Rhaegar's expressionless facade cracked a little bit at that, his eyes tracing over for her white dress and maiden's cloak, a small frown appearing on his face.

"You should be. We didn't even finish the vows." Not that Eddara really cared.

The prince gripped his own sword more tightly, his hair even more silver in the moonlight, his violet eyes peering at Ned and Lysa in the darkness, and his tone was far more formal when he spoke again. "My lady, please put your weapon down. I mean you no harm."

"What makes you think I have any intention of listening to _you_?"

The prince pointed his sword at her, but he seemed hesitant to attack, so Ned took the opportunity to question him further.

"Is Lyanna alright?"

"She's fine, safe in King's Landing under the protection of Ser Jaime."

"Why did you take her, Rhaegar? For the matter, why did you ask me if you were going to take her?"

"I... Ned, it's complicated. I'll explain everything, but I need you to put your blade down."

"Not a chance."

There was an awkward silence, before Rhaegar cleared his throat.

"I don't know if you know this, but Lyanna is pregnant. She and I are both very happy," he mentioned, his voice soft with love for the child, even if his true feelings for his new wife remained shrouded in mystery.

"Of course. You must be delighted. I'm guessing this one is the Prince that was Promised?" Eddara questioned sarcastically. Of all the prophecies, Rhaegar had always been concerned with that one the most. Eddara had laughed at the time.

"Westeros needs its savior, Lady Eddara, and more importantly, it needs my father gone. I made decisions, some of them ill-advised, but I did what I had to do. I know I have my flaws, but I care for my people."

"You killed my little brother."

Rhaegar winced. "Benjen was felled by a stray arrow at the hand of Prince Lewyn. I tried to get him to surrender, but he would not listen. The boy was as honourable as you ever were. I told everyone to take him alive, but Eddara... it's war. The child should not have been there to begin with."

She raised her blade, but remained frozen in place.

"You lied to me. You manipulated everyone."

"I've never lied to you, Ned. Nothing I said to you at Harrenhal was a lie."

She attacked.

********************

She launched her first attack at his midsection, but he blocked her easily, catching her blade and throwing her backwards. He sliced at her arm, but she sidestepped the strike.

The exchanged a series of thrusts and parries, getting a feel for each other's style. Rhaegar fought like a soldier, throwing heavy blows and overhead strikes, but he was holding back, probably trying to avoid seriously injuring her.

Ned had no such qualms. She fought with all the grace and agility of a dancer, ducking blows and twirling out of reach. Of the two, she was the more flexible, and she utilized it to her advantage.

Every blow of hers came down with deadly intent as she poured her frustration into her fighting, but Rhaegar managed to dodge or swerve away from all of them, before beating her back with a flurry of parries.

The clanging of their weapons echoed through the open space, leaves crunching beneath their feet. Rhaegar trapped her blade in his and flicked his wrist, attempting to disarm her through sheer strength, but she gained the upper hand, lowering her sword slightly and attacking from below.

She caught his blade and twisted it in midair, disarming him and pointing the blades at his face.

Her stomach swooped in triumph as she forced him to the ground.

It was a feeling that was replaced with dread when a new blade entered her vision, attached to the silver arm of Ser Arthur Dayne, the finest and most deadly knight in all Seven Kingdoms. She remembered dancing with him in Harrenhal as he regaled her with tales of the Smiling Knight, staring up in awe as he spun her around.

Yet, here they stood, on opposite sides. Arthur defending his prince; Eddara trying to kill him. How far they had come, indeed.

"Yield, my lady."

Eddara promptly did the stupidest thing she's ever done, and dueled the kingsguard knight.

To her credit, she really did _try._

But it was no contest.

Ned was an excellent swordswoman, but Arthur was simply better. Their blades crossed, and his brown orbs softened as he dodged her flurry of blows and parries, disarming her with a complicated feint and lunge, backing her into a tree.

"You fought well, Lady Eddara. You'd be a challenge for several of my sworn brothers," the knight murmured as he pulled the sword out of her hands, respect shining in his gaze. Rhaegar was already standing up, having retrieved his blade from where Ned had tossed it to the ground.

"Thank you, Arthur." Arthur bowed to his prince.

"Lady Eddara? Will you come with us peacefully?" The prince asked in an unaffected manner, holding out his hand. She shook her head stubbornly, trying to grasp onto the tree trunk behind her, even as Lysa's flickered in between the prince and the knight, as if considering her options.

Sighing, Rhaegar bent down and grabbed her by the knees, slinging her over his shoulder, her feet dangling in the air as she pounded her fists into the small of his back.

"Lady Lysa, I would greatly appreciate it if you did not put up as much of a fight as Lady Eddara. I promise, no harm will come to you if you come with me now. My forces were instructed not to harm the unarmed women or children." Lysa nodded nervously, and Arthur smiled kindly at her, offering her his arm.

"Rhaegar is correct, my lady. The kingsguard and the prince were very clear that no child should be slaughtered, no woman assaulted in the ambush. You are prisoners of war, but ladies all the same, and we assure you, you will not be mistreated."

Lysa offered him a hesitant smile of her own, taking his arm, all while Ned continued to punch Rhaegar repeatedly and squirmed, trying to wriggle out of his grip.

"Put me down!"

"Will you agree not to run?"

"No."

Ned didn’t care if Rhaegar had won this battle and the entire war. If he wanted to take her as a hostage to King’s Landing, she’d fight him all the way. She landed a particularly strong blow on the back of his neck, and Rhaegar winced, rubbing the bruise while Ser Arthur looked like he was trying hard not to laugh.

"I see you smiling, Arthur. Why don't you try carrying her?"

"Oh, I think I'll pass. That's not an experience I'm likely to survive with my head intact."

As if to prove his point, Eddara kneed Rhaegar in the ribs, satisfied by his grunt of pain.

The knight and the prince discussed the battle, which, from what she could gather, the loyalist forces had won(not that she's surprised, it had been an ambush and they had been severely outnumbered), as well as the small pockets of resistance in the Stormlands. Slowly, they made their way back to the encampments. Ned caught something about Robert, but she was too busy trying to pummel her captor to really pay attention as he continually adjusted her in his arms.

By the time they reached the prince's tent, she was certain that the prince's chest and back were sore by the way he grimaced as he set her down. _Good._

"Arthur, please show Lady Lysa to her rooms. I need to speak with Lady Stark."

He bowed and left. Rhaegar guided her into the tent, with two guards stepping out of their way. "You may want to sit down for this."

She remained standing, her arms crossed over her chest. He did not seem fazed by it, as he stood behind his desk, folding his arms behind his back.

"Alright, Lady Stark, I am here to tell you that your insurrection has been put down. Hoster Tully has just been killed and Benjen Stark is dead. Robert Baratheon has been gravely wounded and fled, and Jon Arryn has been captured. He will be executed for his refusal to bend the knee. His heir, Denys, has been killed in battle as well."

"As of now, you are the only person who can claim to be the heir to Winterfell, so you are effectively a hostage of the king, as is the Tully girl. You, Lady Lysa and Lord Arryn will be taken to King's Landing, while the other bannermen will have the option of bending the knee, execution, or wearing the black, depending on the severity of their treason."

"The negotiation for the terms of surrender will take place in the Red Keep." Rhaegar's tone was poised and authoritative as he delivered his perfunctory speech, even if his eyes were soft with sympathy.

"I want to go back to Winterfell."

"I am afraid that is not an option."

"Do you honestly believe that your father will allow me and Lysa to live?"

"No harm shall come to you or any of the ladies here tonight. You have my word."

She glared at him. "Is that all?"

He blinked, walking over to her and reaching out, but then he dropped his hand, thinking better of it. "Two of my guards will escort you to your tent." He walked over to the exit of the tent, paused, and then opened his mouth once more, with nothing but sincerity in his words.

"My deepest condolences, Lady Stark."

The sound of his footsteps echoed in Ned's ears as he left. Once again, the prince had read her like an open book, as she crumpled to the floor, no longer concerned with putting up a front as her breath came out in hitched sobs.

She had lost everything. Her home, her family, her friends. Everything and everyone she had ever loved has been ripped away from her.

She should have died with Benjen.

The letter from the messenger slipped out of her cloak, and she picked it up warily, wiping the tears out of her eyes so she could read it properly. Eddara recognized Robert's loopy handwriting almost immediately.

_Ned, if you are reading this, then hopefully you were able to escape Rhaegar's forces. If not, then I hope you went down fighting._

_That Targaryen bastard took us by surprise at Stone Hedge. I tried to fight him one on one, but there wasn't enough open space like there would've been if he had fought on a field like the Trident, where we planned to make our stand, and nearly the entire kingsguard was by his side. I suffered a bad wound to the chest. The maester and a few bannermen are smuggling me to the Free Cities, so hopefully we can rebuild our army and try again, but for now, the Rebellion is lost._

_Benjen is dead. The boy fought courageously, Ned, you would've been proud._

_I'm sorry. I couldn't keep my promise, but I know how empty my words must seem to you. Of all of us, you've suffered the most, lost the most._

_The only thing I can do is swear another vow, one that I have every intention of keeping. I'll come back to Westeros one day, and rid the seven kingdoms of the Targaryens once and for all._

_If you're alive, I'll come back for you, Ned. You and Lyanna._

_I promise._

*******************

Ned woke up to the sound of birds chirping in the morning, asleep in a cot in her tent. Quickly dressing in a modest blue gown provided to her, she walked out of her tent, two guards on her heels.

The tents were being stripped down, and Eddara could smell residual smoke from bonfires from the previous night. All around her, soldiers were smiling and laughing with their comrades, patting one another on the back. Men whistled and hummed to southern tunes that Ned had never heard of.

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the entire atmosphere was one of elation and victory, a sharp contrast to the swirling emotions, the thunderstorm of grief, fury and a curious sort of melancholiness that raged on in her heart.

The women and children were being released to their families in exchange for fealty, whereas the bannermen and prisoners had, for the most part, either been executed or bent the knee.

To Ned's shock, many of them had knelt before Rhaegar. She hadn't understood why, when the guards had informed her, but she had a strange feeling that she would begin to, as she joined Targaryen soldiers who had begun to gather in the clearing.

Rhaegar stood in the middle, his voice loud and commanding as he addressed his troops.

"My men, you have fought bravely and valiantly. I will forever be indebted to you. Let us take a moment now, to remember our fallen brothers, and all whom we have lost."

The soldiers all put their heads down for a moment, raising them as Rhaegar spoke once more.

"You will be remembered as heroes, and you will be rewarded for your courage! I will ensure it. I stand here now, and I cannot think of men that I would rather be with in our moment of triumph. It has been my honor to fight on the front lines alongside you."

"The honor is all ours, Rhaegar." Ser Barristan kneeled before his prince, and the kingsguard, as well as the Targaryen soldiers, all followed his lead, shouting their praise for all of the Riverlands to hear.

"Hail the prince!"

"Hail the one true _king_!"

Eddara did not know who said it first, but it quickly became a chant taken up by the rest of the men, until every single soldier was screaming that it was Rhaegar who was their king, Rhaegar who fought with them and risked his life with them.

Rhaegar's face was impassive as he took it all in, never letting the mask slip, before carefully saying, "If it is your will and your belief that my father is unfit to rule, than who am I to question my men's judgement? We march for King's Landing today, and once we reach the Keep, I shall imprison my father for good for his crimes against the kingdom. His reign of tyranny must be ended. Will you stand with me?"

Ned couldn’t help but shake her head, as the soldiers cheered and screamed their support, waving their weapons in the air. Rhaegar had played them all brilliantly, and if the Mad King wasn't a sadist, as well as the man responsible for starting the rebellion that destroyed Ned's life in the first place, she might even be angry.

Now? She just wanted to see Aerys' head on a spike, even if she didn't necessarily want Rhaegar to take the Iron Throne. They could both burn for all she cared.

Even the kingsguard looked upon the prince with admiration in their eyes, although they were one member short, for Ser Jonothor had been slain in battle.

She wondered, for a second, why they would agree to such treason, and then realized that not a single one was wearing their white cloak or kingsguard armor that marked them as loyal to Aerys. Clearly, in their eyes, _Rhaegar_ was the king. He was the king in the eyes of his people and lords; deposing of Aerys would only make it official.

The Targaryen soldiers marched out of Riverrun, Rhaegar and his kingsguard leading the army out at the head. Jon Arryn was tied up and placed on a horse. Ned could not bring herself to even look at the man. If he had listened to her, if he hadn't insisted on Benjen being the one to fight...

Lysa and Eddara were riding at the head of the party, but they didn't have any illusion of escape; they were surrounded by soldiers and the kingsguard.

She could hear the knights and the prince chatting beside her, but she tuned them all out, focusing on her horse as a somber expression settled over her face. Next to her, Lady Lysa was not even trying to hide the fact that she had been crying, her eyes still red and puffy. She had heard about the death of her lord father, no doubt.

They rode out of Riverrun, through tall mountains. The area was a little treacherous, and when they were almost through, Ned briefly wondered if perhaps she could make a run for it.

She discreetly moved her horse over to the side, closer to Lysa. Unfortunately, a kingsguard silently cut her off before she could go any farther. _Prince Lewyn._

He didn’t say anything, merely guiding her horse back to the center where she was surrounded by Targaryen guards, an apologetic look on his face, but Ned could not contain the expression of displeasure that crossed her face upon meeting the eyes of her brother's murderer.

All of a sudden, a raven flied overhead, dropping a letter into the Targaryen prince’s lap. Frowning, Rhaegar opened the envelope, his narrowed eyes widening as he read its contents aloud to his men.

"Tywin Lannister has agreed to support me in my claim for the throne. He is sending a force to King's Landing as we speak."

A shiver of unease rippled through the ranks of Rhaegar's men, and the kingsguard exchanged troubled glances. Lord Lannister had been neutral during the entire rebellion, refusing attempts to get him to join either side, watching and waiting.

So why would the old lion step out of the shadows now?

********************

The lanterns cast shadows all across the hall, as the Mad King stood in his chair, picking at his dirty fingernails, bleeding from the hands. _The fool had managed to cut himself again,_ Jaime reflected.

On one side, the Lion of Lannister stood guard, hand grasping the hilt of his sword as he warily eyed the king. Aerys was unpredictable in his rages, but his silence was far more frightening, for it typically meant that the king was plotting.

The last thing Aerys had mentioned was that Ser Arthur, Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell, Ser Barristan, and Prince Lewyn were all officially no longer members of the kingsguard, but traitors to the crown. They had fought alongside the prince, and had sided with him when Rhaegar denounced the king mere days ago.

Jaime had said nothing, silently wishing that he had been included in the list.

_Idiot. He literally named the entire kingsguard except me._

The cries of men, women and children filled Jaime's ears as he desperately tried to tune them out, tried to imagine that he was anywhere else but the Red Keep as King's Landing crumbled around them.

_Go away inside, Jaime. Think of little Tyrion, think of sweet Cersei, think of anything else. Go away inside._

The only other figures in the room were the pyromancer and, of course, Lyanna Stark, stomach slightly swollen with child. Lyanna looked sickly in the light, eyes darting around nervously, and Jaime couldn't blame her for being jumpy.

When Rhaegar had first brought his wolf girl to King's Landing, Jaime had been struck by how different Lyanna was, compared to her sister. He had barely met Eddara Stark, but from what he had surmised, the two Stark sisters were as different as night and day. Eddara had exhibited a harshness and solemnity, that Lyanna, innocent, wild, and wide-eyed, lacked.

Aerys had cunningly agreed to the wedding knowing that it would worsen Robert's Rebellion and likely get the prince killed, no doubt. The king had made no secret of the fact that he distrusted his heir.

_Protect Lyanna and Elia,_ the prince's last words to him had been, as the princess was virtually defenseless against the king, but Elia had the protection of her brother, Oberyn, who had come back from the Free Cities to King's Landing as soon as he had heard Elia's marriage had been annulled.

Elia might still be forced to stay in the Red Keep, but with her brother by her side, she was safe in a way the Stark girl was not.

_When I come back, things will be different,_ Rhaegar had promised. 

It looked like the prince was fulfilling his promise.

Aerys's rasping voice drew his attention back to the king.

"So, it appears the rumors of my son marching against me are true. Your father has joined my traitorous kin, boy, and sacked this city when I opened my doors to greet him as a friend."

Aerys sneered up at him, and Jaime remained impassive. Showing no emotion, Jaime had gradually learned, was the only way to survive in the Mad King's court.

"Go kill him, will you? Stick your golden sword in his treacherous back."

Jaime froze. No, he couldn't possibly...

"Your grace, you are asking me to kill my own father. To become a kinslayer."

"Well, it looks like your ears are working, boy. Go on, do your duty! You are _mine_ , Lannister. You have been since the day I gifted you with the white cloak and stole you away from your father."

Before he could process what was happening, Aerys called the pyromancer.

"Burn this city to the ground. I want Tywin Lannister and his men to pay for what he's done. Burn them all! BURN THEM ALL!" The king roared, a crazed glint in his eyes.

Jaime was still stunned, too shocked to move.

Lyanna Stark was not.

"You can't do that. They'll all die! The only one of us here that deserves to die is you!" she shrieked, and Jaime saw a glimmer of a she wolf underneath the dress of Myrish silk.

"How dare you! You are nothing, merely the woman who carries my traitorous son's bastard."

"Kill her, and let her join her beloved father! Burn her!"

A guard descended on Lyanna Stark, who scrambled away, fright and fury blazing in her eyes. That, and the shame of a woman, one who was only a year older than him, having the courage to call the king out for the monster he was when Jaime himself was too craven to, jolted him into action.

Jaime ran down the steps from the Iron Throne, duelling the guard and stabbing him in the stomach with two strokes of his sword as Lyanna fell to the ground in shock.

"The babe," Lyanna gasped, clutching her stomach. A dark crimson liquid pooled between her thighs. She was losing the babe.

Jaime put that development aside and raced after the pyromancer, shoving his sword through the man's throat before he could get away.

And then, there was one.

As Lyanna Stark lay on the floor, bleeding, dazed and crying _Brandon_ , and a few servants rushed into the hall to assist their princess, the Mad King scrambled away from Jaime.

He knew what Jaime was going to do, even if the entire thing still felt surreal to Jaime himself. There was only him, and the king. This was always the way this was supposed to end, from the moment the king had told him to murder his father. From the moment he was asked to stand by as innocent men, women and children burned until they were nothing but ashes and dust...

_This is for my father. This is for the Starks. This is for Rhaella._

The northerners were not the only ones who remembered. Jaime remembered everything, his father's humiliation, Rickard and Brandon Stark's screams, Rhaella's wails, how his soul had been torn apart bit by bit, piece by piece as he was forced to obey the commands of the Mad King. Forced to stand by and _watch_ , through all of it, and told by the other kingsguard that they obeyed the king's word, no matter what, everytime he tried to speak up.

He had always dreamt of being a kingsguard. But the silver armor had only been hiding the rust underneath.

_This, you sick bastard, is for me._

As Jaime plunged his sword into the coward's back and slit his throat, watching as he crumpled to the floor, his eyes staring without seeing, he realized that it didn't even feel like treason. _It felt like justice._

Finally, the Mad King was dead.

Jaime Lannister wished he could say he regretted it.

He didn't.

He didn't regret a _damn_ thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon Divergences: I mentioned this in Robert’s part, but the Targaryen troops move faster, intercepting Robert. They fight in a town, not an open field, and Rhaegar is surrounded by kingsguard, so the Targaryens have won(atleast for now). For reasons also mentioned in the chapter by the lady herself, Eddara is more bitter in this version of events. She's still solemn, honorable, and reserved like canon, but she's also going to be pretty depressed for some time. Ned in canon won the war, returned alive to his wife and son, and still had a living sibling in Benjen, and a piece of Lyanna in Jon. This Ned has no family except Lyanna, all her friends are either dead or gone, she's a hostage meaning her future is uncertain, her baby brother was murdered on the field of battle, and she may never see Winterfell again in her lifetime. This Ned _lost._ She's pretty disillusioned with everything around her right now, and may even begin to question some of the principles that she's always followed. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for commenting and leaving kudos! I didn’t expect the response that I got from the last chapter, and I love hearing your thoughts on the developments, so I’d be grateful if you could leave feedback!
> 
> So what are everyone's thoughts on Lyanna right now? Still hate her, kind of feel bad for her? What about Jaime? I actually really liked writing him, his perspective was so interesting, I hope I’ve done the character justice. Feel free to share your thoughts on any of the characters, plot developments, and predictions in comments. They really inspire authors to keep writing. 
> 
> So this chapter has concluded the first arc of this fic. The summary below is for the second arc. I do want to give you guys a heads up, the fic is going on a very brief hiatus, and I won’t be able to update for 5-6 weeks because of my hectic schedule. However, updates will be more regular after December.
> 
> UP NEXT: Arc 2 
> 
> The power dynamics of Westeros have shifted. A deadly game, with only one victor. Starks, Tyrells, Targaryens, Lannisters, Martells and others join the dragon's court, eager for a seat at the table.
> 
> Meanwhile, remnants of the uprising linger. Hundreds of miles away, Robert Baratheon lives. The war isn't quite over yet.
> 
> Political intrigue. Lies. Unlikely alliances. Betrayal. Eddara Stark must face all of it and more when she enters the doors of the Red Keep, in the precarious position of a king's hostage, desperate for a chance to escape. Will Ned Stark survive, or will she fall?


	8. Hostage

King's Landing was on fire.

Or atleast, it seemed that way, as the Targaryen army approached the city under siege. The screams could be heard from miles away, sending shivers down Ned's spine.

They picked up speed, entering Flea Bottom, but it was too late. The Sack of King's Landing was nearly over.

Blood was overflowing on the streets, and everywhere Eddara looked, she could see the mutilated bodies of men, women, and children. It was all she could do not to throw up as she watched a Lannister soldier stick his sword in a fleeing woman's back, simultaneously murdering her and her babe who couldn't be more than six months old. Lady Lysa fainted at the sight, and Ned had to ride over, propping up the younger girl on her own horse so she wouldn't tip over.

Ned ran over to the woman, examining the child to see if there was anything she could do, but the babe was dead, a blade jutting out from where its tiny heart would be, eyes glassy and unseeing. She looked around, seeing if perhaps there was anyone else she could save... anything to stop the feeling of utter helplessness as chaos raged on around her, before Ser Gerold brusquely told her to get back on her horse.

"Stop! Stop this madness!" Rhaegar ordered loudly, surveying the Lannister soldiers in revulsion. Similar expressions of disgust and horror crossed the faces of the former kingsguard.

They made their way to the Red Keep, as Rhaegar instructed several of his bannermen to find Lord Tywin and put an end to the fighting, if there were still any places where these atrocities were being committed.

"They say Tywin Lannister is ruthless, but Rhaegar... this is something else." Ser Barristan shook his head, his pale eyes mournful at the pointless loss of life.

"I know, Barristan. I know."

Finally, they entered the holdfast. To her shock, Ned realized that Jaime Lannister was somewhat dazedly sitting on the Iron Throne, his sword in hand, the Mad King's body lying lifelessly on the steps.

"Prince Rhaegar!" The knight stood up almost immediately, running down the steps and bowing to his prince... _king_ , now, Ned realized. Rhaegar was the king.

"Ser Jaime, what... what has happened here? Are Elia and Lyanna alright?"

The Silver Prince took a step forward to confront the youth, but Ser Arthur pulled him back, frowning suspiciously at the golden knight.

"Ser Jaime? What have you done?" the silver-haired, brown eyed kingsguard questioned.

"I-I did it. I killed _him._ " No one needed to ask who him was.

Ned remembered the enthusiastic boy she'd met at Harrenhal, quivering with excitement at the thought of being a kingsguard knight, and could only shake her head in dismay. How could the Lannister boy have fallen so far?

The deepest, darkest part of Eddara was happy that Aerys was dead. Yet, the boy had been sitting so smugly upon that Iron Throne, and even now, he was smiling as he confessed his crime to Rhaegar, as if he was proud of breaking his vows.

Of course he was proud. Jaime had served the king when it was safe, had stood by and watched as Aerys committed unspeakable crimes like _burning her father alive_ , and then turned on him the moment it became convenient and his father sacked the city.

There were two types of people that Eddara hated above all others: cowards and oppressors. Clearly, Ser Jaime was the former.

"Ser Jaime, where is my wife? Where is Elia?" Rhaegar snapped, his voice hard.

"The last I saw her, Princess Elia was with Prince Oberyn. Lady Lyanna was in the throne room, but she had to see a maester. Your grace... she lost the babe." For the first time, there was something akin to shame in Jaime's face as he stared at the floor, not meeting Rhaegar's eyes or the eyes of the rest of his kingsguard. Eddara's heart squeezed in sympathy for her little sister.

"Prince Lewyn, take Ser Jaime to the Black Cells. This shall be dealt with at a later time."

"Ser Oswell, round up our forces, and tell Lord Tywin to meet me in the Council room. I'm sure he remembers the way."

Rhaegar took command of the situation almost immediately, delegating tasks to the rest of the former kingsguard and bannermen, asking them to round up any loyalists as well.

"Barristan, you and a few bannermen will need to accompany me to see Queen Lyanna. Arthur, please escort the hostages somewhere safe within the Red Keep and place them under heavy guard before you check on Elia, and then come join me. Do not, under any cost, allow Lannister soldiers near Lady Lysa or Lady Eddara." Ned started a little bit at her name, and stared up at the knight, who nodded in affirmation.

"Hail Rhaegar Targaryen, the one true king," a soldier spoke up, and Rhaegar's remaining men nodded their assent, but there was none of the cheer or revelry that had been present before. Instead, the words were spoken solemnly, as if everyone was fully aware of the steep price they had paid for their victory.

Ned allowed for Ser Arthur to escort her out, completely overwhelmed, her belly twisting and churning at what she had witnessed that day. Lysa clutched her arm like a crutch as they slowly ascended the steps before coming to a room.

"Both of you should remain here until you are sent for. Please do not try to escape Lady Eddara; it would be futile, and I do not know what would happen if the Lannisters got ahold of you." Ser Arthur's face was unusually grim and pale. The knight had certainly seen much from serving Aerys all these years, but Ned wondered if he had ever seen anything like this before.

She shuddered and nodded as soldiers took up their post outside their room, closing the door as Ser Arthur left them.

Eddara emptied the contents of her stomach in a chamber pot.

***************

The next few days were dizzying.

Ned and Lysa were kept under constant guard, but they were still given clothes and food, and they were treated well.

However, their state of isolation from the rest of the Red Keep, as well as a complete lack of knowledge pertaining to the aftermath of the attack, was maddening.

Eddara knew that a majority of Lannister troops had departed King's Landing to the cheers of the smallfolk, which could be heard quite audibly from their room. Flea Bottom was in ruins, but Ned knew that the common folk were stronger than they looked. They'd get through it, even if the horrors of that day would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

 _I know it'll haunt me,_ Eddara reflected. It had taken her hours to wash off the bloodstains of the dead babe she had held in her hands, and days to stop seeing the alarming image every time she closed her eyes.

The only other thing they knew for sure was that Jon Arryn had been executed.

She and Lysa had caught a glimpse of the beheading from their window, right outside the Red Keep. The lord paramount had been sentenced to die as a traitor who raised arms against the crown. The smalfolk cheered as his head was severed from his body, but both Ned and Lysa shuddered and looked away.

Vaguely, Eddara remembered that Lysa had technically been married to Jon Arryn. Judging by the look on the other lady's face, she had just remembered as well.

"Do you think he'll kill us too?" the younger girl asked fearfully.

"I don't believe so, Lady Lysa, but in these uncertain times... I cannot be sure." Ned shivered as she realized that her life was in the hands of the king and the Small Council now. Of all the ways she had thought she would die in the past year, beheading, for some reason, had never been one of them.

It was a painful, horrible way to die.

Eddara reminisced over the moments she had shared with Lord Arryn in the Vale before their relationship soured, back when he was instructing her on the code of honor that she was sworn to follow as a lady of a great house. She had taken his words to heart, and Jon Arryn had shaped her into the woman she was today. Of course, that was before he made the decision to send her little brother into combat, and suddenly, she didn't feel quite as bad as she thought she would. 

Finally, the day came. Both she and Lysa were summoned to appear in front of the king.

Ser Arthur escorted them to Rhaegar's solar, their footsteps echoing down the empty halls. An air of gloominess filled the long corridors, servants scurrying about, resuming their daily business. From what Ned had heard, the coronation had been a hasty affair, as everyone seemed to want to make Rhaegar king as soon as possible and establish a small council to end the brief period of anarchy, in an effort for things to go back to the way they once were.

Eddara knew better. After all this, nothing would ever be the same again.

"Lady Lysa. Lady Eddara," Rhaegar greeted. The Tully girl curtsied immediately as they approached Rhaegar's solar, Ser Arthur closing the door behind them. Ned bent as well, ignoring how much it grated her to bow to this man, this prince who had ruined her life and that of her family's.

The position of a hostage was uncertain and fragile. It was Rhaegar's goodwill that kept her alive, and that alone, no matter how much she despised the prospect of acting civilly towards him.

"As both of you know, Robert's Rebellion has ended, and the few skirmishes raging on in the North are being put down as we speak. Lady Lysa, my council and I have decided to allow Edmure Tully to become heir to the Riverlands when he is of age. Nevertheless, Targaryen loyalist lords will form a council to rule the Riverlands and train the boy until he becomes of age."

"The forces guarding Winterfell have surrendered, and Lady Catelyn will be coming to court as well, to join you. Your lives will be spared, but you and your sister will remain in King's Landing, as a guarantee, since your father had committed treason by raising arms against the crown."

 _So did you,_ Ned almost snapped, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. This was not her battle to fight.

The red haired woman nodded, curtsying again. "Thank you for your mercy, your grace." Rhaegar inclined his head, smiling gently at the younger girl before turning to Ned, who met his soft eyes with a wintry gaze of her own, her face slightly lowered in a facade of politeness.

"Lady Eddara, your situation is more complicated. Since the last male heir to the Stark line is dead with no living son of his own, your remaining bannermen have officially declared you Lady of Winterfell, heir to the North."

He paused for a moment, allowing her time to process. Eddara knew exactly what this meant. She was the heir to North, and a far more valuable hostage than Lysa Tully. Any hopes of ever seeing Winterfell again were shattered.

"You will also remain in King's Landing for the time being, alive and unharmed, to ensure the cooperation of the North."

Ned knew that if she were a smart woman, she would curtsy and thank Rhaegar for not killing her, but she merely nodded and remained standing, fighting to keep her feelings of bitterness at bay.

"My king? If I may have a word with you in private?" She gritted her teeth at the courtesies, but if politeness was what kept her alive she would bear it.

Rhaegar nodded, and Lysa left the room.

***************

“Why?"

He frowned, puzzled by her question. "Excuse me?"

"You promised me an answer. I want to know why you ran off with Lyanna. Why you used everyone. For goodness' sake, Rhae- your grace, I want to know _why_."

"Besides, how could you have done what you did to Elia? A good woman who deserved none of this?”"

Rhaegar looked at her, sighing and crossing his arms over his chest. His indigo orbs didn't leave her grey ones as he began to speak, but they were filled with a strange sort of melancholy and weariness that she was all too familiar with.

She saw the same look in her eyes every time she looked in the mirror.

"Would you rather Elia almost die giving birth to my heir? Because that's what would have likely happened, if she had gotten pregnant again."

"Die? I know Rhaenys' birth was difficult, but certainly-"

"It was more than difficult. Surely you've heard of Elia's fragile health? Elia was bedridden and feverish for months after giving birth to Rhaenys, I couldn't put her through that again. But the crown needed an heir, and I needed a _son._ Especially with Aerys-"

She cut him off. "Fine. You didn't want Elia to die in childbirth. It doesn’t excuse your actions, but then why did you run with Lyanna, of all people?"

"There wasn't just one reason, Ned."

"With Lyanna, I thought perhaps I could grow to care for her, in time. And I know you're not going to want to hear this, but the realm _needed_ a rebellion. More than you know."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's easier to avoid suspicion if you masquerade as a prophecy-obsessed lunatic. So that's what I did with my father. I'm interested in prophecies, truly, I am. But I ran away with your sister to start a revolt, to overthrow Aerys, Ned. It was always about _him_."

"So you were just using us, then. Using _me._ “

"I wanted to _help_ you. You were the one that wanted to get away from Elbert, remember? I was offering you a way out. And when Lyanna came to me, that's what I offered her. A way out."

Eddara scowled. "A way out? It was _dishonorable_. Your 'way out' may have helped you and Lyanna, but it killed hundreds of people."

"It could have been millions!" Rhaegar raised his voice, his eyes blazing. "But of course, you don't understand. No one understands just how mad Aerys was, except maybe Jaime Lannister."

"Jaime Lannister has nothing to do with my sister!"

"Ask him! Ask him what made him kill my father in the first place, and believe me when I say the decision to chop off his sword hand as punishment was the Small Council's, not mine. If his father wasn't currently reviled by most of Westeros for his actions in King's Landing, and if people could properly distinguish between doing what is honorable and doing what is right, Jaime Lannister would be lauded as a hero."

Rhaegar took a step forward. "You will never really know how mad my father was, Eddara. How far he was willing to go. How far I had to be willing to go to end his reign. I've done things I'm not proud of. I've done things I regret. But I know that with my father out of the way, a better future for the realm may be possible yet, and I _will_ build that future from the ashes. I love my people, and all I can hope for now is to do right by them."

She shook her head. "As the daughter of the man he burned alive, I think I'm perfectly aware of Aerys’ cruelty. And _none_ of it justifies what you did to me."

He narrowed his eyes and stared at her for what seems like an eternity, before clearing his throat.

"The first time I actually wanted to be king was when I was fourteen."

Ned raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"It was right about then that my father's madness really kicked in. I had no interest in the position, believe me, even if I was the heir. I could've become a bard or a maester at Oldtown, and that would've been enough for me."

"But when I was fourteen, it was the first time he visited Rhaella's chambers... without her permission. I'm guessing you can imagine what happened next."

Eddara blinked and looked away. Of course she knew. Aerys' mistreatment of his queen was an ill-kept secret in King's Landing.

"I tried to stop him, the first time. Aerys had been strong back then, though, or stronger than he was when he died, and the kingsguard always protected him, so all I got was a backhand for my trouble and a nasty bruise. Do you have any idea what that's like, Ned? To listen to something like that happen to the woman who gave birth to you, and be powerless to stop it?"

"That was the day I wanted to be king. That was the day I wanted to protect my _mother_."

"So I learned. I learned how to address the plights of the smallfolk, how to fight in a tourney, how to run the Red Keep, how to smile and lie and manipulate, how to win people over. I learned how to be a _king_ , even if I never forgot about my songs and my stories."

"I know you think I'm a monster, but I won't regret what happened to my father. I don't regret this rebellion, even if I am sorry for all the deaths that it has caused. Because it led to Aerys' death, Ned. That monster can't hurt me, or my mother, or the smallfolk, or innocent lords like your father, or _anyone_ ever again."

"It's not Aerys' death that angers me, Rhaegar. It's the fact that you ran away with Lyanna."

"She asked me, not the other way around. Lyanna _wanted_ to run away."

"So? You should've said no."

"I... it could've been handled better. It _should’ve_ been handled better. Believe me, Eddara I - I am more than aware of my flaws. I’m not going to excuse my actions, but I will try to make up for them,” Rhaegar said determinedly, but there was something shaky in his voice, and a small part of Ned felt elation at the fact that she had hurt him, hurt the man she had once called a friend and was now forced to call her king.

“You didn’t need to run off with my sister to start a rebellion.”

“I tried to start one at Harrenhal. I tried to meet with the other lords there, what do you think the real purpose of that tourney was? But Aerys was there, Varys had told him his suspicions, as he always does. Even if he hadn’t, there was little chance the lords would’ve challenged the legitimate king of Westeros, especially because so many horrible things which were said about Aerys were merely whispers at the time, and no one had actually seen the king in years.”

"However, concerning the rebellion, I made mistakes, Ned. I know that. Lyanna and I... in hindsight, I should’ve tried harder to find another way. But now, I’ll protect my people, hopefully act as the king they deserve, and reparations will be made to the injured parties, particularly the Dornish."

"What about reparations to _my_ family? Or whatever is left of it?"

"You have my sincerest apologies, Ned. Please, believe me when I say that I never meant for you or your family to get hurt."

"Your apologies mean _nothing_. They cannot bring my loved ones back to me, can they?"

"No, they cannot." He was silent for a moment, before slowly walking over to her until he was only a foot away.

"You have my solemn vow. I will not let anything happen to Lyanna while she is under my care if I can help it. She deserves that much from me, and I know you deserve much more. It is poor compensation for the losses you have suffered, but my oath is the only thing I can give you, Ned."

"I shall hold you to it, my king." With her final biting words, Eddara straightened her back and curtsied, and they are lady and king once more, no longer friends or enemies or whatever else they had been before.

Before she left, though, she couldn’t help but ask one more question.

"Will you ever allow me to go back to Winterfell?"

"I will have to discuss it with the Small Council and gain their approval first, but I believe, in time... yes," he answered hesitantly, and she nodded curtly, slamming the door shut behind her.

***************

Ser Arthur filled her and Lysa in on everything that had changed as he walked them back to their rooms. "You know that Rhaegar and Lyanna are king and queen, obviously."

As much as Eddara loathed the fact that the loyalists had won the war, and Arthur had been one of them, she cannot bring herself to hate him, not truly, and settled for listening to what had happened while she and Lysa had been locked away.

"Aerys' advisors, the ones that bent the knee, have been spared. After the siege, we found that Gregor Clegane and Amory Lynch had attacked Princess Elia, but her Dornish guards and Prince Oberyn defended her successfully, and she and Rhaenys are relatively unharmed. Tywin Lannister has been ordered to deliver a formal apology for his crimes against the Dornish princess and the people of King's Landing."

Eddara frowned. "As happy as I am to see that justice is served, I can't imagine Lord Lannister agreeing to that, and he is still a powerful lord."

"He is, but he is also undoubtedly satiated by the fact that he is getting his son and heir back." Ser Arthur spoke grimly, disgust marring his tone upon mentioning the kingslayer, the epithet of the now infamous Jaime Lannister.

"Ser Jaime has been released from the kingsguard, and the Small Council and the king have determined that he should lose his sword hand for breaking his vows. Nevertheless, he is alive, and he will certainly not need his sword hand to rule Casterly Rock."

It was an appropriate punishment for the magnitude of Jaime's crimes, although Ned could not help but feel a stab of pity for the once chivalrous knight. To lose a sword hand...

"Lord Tywin has been appointed the Master of Coin as well. Jon Connington has been released from exile and is now Hand of the King. Varys and Pycelle remain as Master of Whispers and Grand Maester, respectively. Prince Oberyn has been made Master of Laws and Mace Tyrell has been made Master of Ships, as recompense and as a reward for the loyalty of the Dornishmen and the Reach."

Ned wished to point out that Dorne's princess had been held hostage, which was the only reason they provided any support, but judging from Ser Arthur's wry expression, he already knew. Of course he did. Ser Arthur was _from_ Dorne, and suddenly, Eddara wondered how the knight felt about everything that had been happening with Elia.

She didn't get the chance, though, as Ser Arthur continued, "I understand that neither of you have visited King's Landing before. You will be expected to attend court, and I suspect the queen will take you on as ladies-in-waiting. Due to your... _status_ , here, you will be accompanied by guards."

"If you ever need anything, Lady Lysa, Lady Eddara, you can ask. I promise, I will do everything in my power to make you comfortable," Ser Arthur assured them. There was nothing but sincerity in his words, and yet, when he reached for her hand, Ned drew away.

She wanted to be alone.

Arthur seemed to understand, withdrawing immediately and bowing in deference to both of them before leaving their quarters. The ladies no longer shared a room, and Lysa had been moved to the room right next to hers.

Unfortunately, her state of isolation did not last long.

Two maids entered her chambers, followed by the queen.

***************

Lyanna was paler than Eddara had ever seen her. Her bluish grey eyes were dim. Her lined face belied her weariness, exemplified further by her stooped posture. Her younger sister was still stunningly beautiful, with her glossy curls, sharp features and lovely sapphire dress, made in the southern style.

Yet, the vivaciousness that Ned was so accustomed to was gone, as if someone had sucked the life right out of Lyanna Stark.

Upon laying eyes on her, though, a little color returned to the deathly pale queen, who, disregarding all rules of propriety and convention, ran to Eddara and threw her arms out for a hug.

"Ned, thank goodness you're alright, I've been trying to see you-"

"Your grace." Eddara curtsied deeply, ignoring the gesture, her voice clipped, even as her heart broke at seeing Lyanna in such a state.

She would forgive Lyanna one day. She knew she would; Eddara just wasn’t the type of person to hold a grudge, much less against her only living family.

But for now, Ned just needed her _space_.

Lyanna blinked, her eyes filling with tears.

"No- _please_ , don't, I- it's bad enough that- please, Ned, please, I'm sorry! You have to believe me!" Lyanna fell to the ground, clutching the ends of Ned's skirt like a lifeline and sobbing hysterically, barely able to get a sentence out.

"I've lost the babe, and Brandon and father and Benjen, I just- I can't _bear_ it if you're angry-please, I can't lose you too!"

Ned watched her, still and silent as a statue, torn between helping her sister and for once, _for once_ , just walking away. "Lyanna, I just... I need some time, alright? But I am sorry about the babe, truly."

"I was going to name it Brandon," Lyanna said tearfully. "I didn't mean for any of it... _please_ , Ned. You and Benjen... you didn't deserve what happened, it was _all my fault_. I'm so, so _sorry_."

Eddara sighed, but she could not bring herself to move. There was a time when she could not imagine life without Lyanna. But that time had come and passed, and she could hear the snapping of the rope, the sound of something breaking between them. Something that could not be replaced.

_Trust._

***************

Life in King's Landing was an _adjustment_ , to say the least.

Ned sent ravens to Winterfell daily, leaving instructions to her household on how to manage the affairs of the North in her absence, and appointing a few lords on her council to manage the situation in her stead.

When she wasn’t doing that, Eddara spent her days in her rooms or the library, with Lysa accompanying her like a silent shadow, both still wallowing in grief and unsure of their places, trudging along, struggling to move on.

Not a day went by that Ned didn’t dream of her brothers or her father. Not a day.

As if being stuck in the Red Keep wasn’t bad enough, she found that she had to attend court as well. She hated the flimsy southern gowns, exposing what seems like miles of skin down her back, although her handmaidens merely giggled when she told them so, explaining that it was simply the fashion, and most of her dresses were on the conservative side anyway. She missed the rough, heavy feeling of wool, animal skins, and leather draping over her, protecting her.

The silks and lace made her feel all too vulnerable, too much like the farce of a lady she pretended to be and never was.

Her first day at court was fairly uneventful. The lords and ladies stayed clear of her as if she was the plague (which, given her status as a traitor to the crown, as well as her aversion to socializing, wasn’t all that surprising or unwelcome).

Rhaegar heard a few grievances, sitting on the Iron Throne with his hands grasping the edges, a silver crown interwoven with the thin strands of his hair. His blood red tunic contrasted sharply with his pale skin, and everything, from his posture to his kindly but stern expression, resembled that of a king.

"Full compensation will be given to the farmer." There was a little grumbling as Rhaegar ruled against the lord, but the ruling was also undeniably fair, and Ned watched as the commoner profusely thanked his king. In Aerys' day, both the lord and the commoner would've probably been executed.

Lyanna sat next to Rhaegar in a chair of her own, her saffron gown pooling at her feet, a calm, unreadable look crossing her face.

While Lyanna had cried at their first meeting, there was a severity to her that hadn't been there before, sitting next to the Iron Throne, as if her time in King's Landing had hardened her in some way that even the North, with its freezing weather and harsh way of life, had not.

War, Eddara realized, had left none of them untouched.

***************

Finally, she snapped.

The king had stopped ordering guards to follow her around. There were still soldiers who guarded the Red Keep, of course, too many for her to fight off on her own, so it was not as if escape was likely or even possible, but atleast she had the freedom to wander within the walls of the fortress.

She snuck into the armory one night, when the moon was high, fed up with the feelings of hopelessness and helplessness that had plagued her over the past few weeks. If there was anything that could provide an outlet for her misery, it was swordplay.

She picked up a longsword, testing it a few times, before turning around and slamming into another figure.

Both her and the other person, a man from the looks of him, fell to the ground, scrambling for their respective weapons.

"Who's there?" Both of them asked simultaneously.

Hesitantly, Eddara stepped into the moonlight, allowing the celestial body's rays to illuminate her face under her dark grey cloak.

"Lady Eddara?" The man questioned in shock, raising his face slightly, and Ned realized that she had come face to face with none other than Jaime Lannister. His blonde hair was longer than she remembered, framing his handsome face, although his appearance was slightly cadaverous from his time in the Black Cells.

There was something else, too, a hard glint in his eyes that had not been present in Harrenhal. The boyish innocence and mirthful expression on his face was gone, replaced with something harsher.

She could not help but stare at his golden hand, the one that had been crafted for him and sent by Lord Tywin. It's ornate, with swirls and symbols embellishing the surface, but not even the solid gold can make up for the loss of a sword hand.

Lannister's jade eyes narrowed in suspicion as he gazed upon her. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you," she responded warily, stalling for time.

"I-I was going to practice," Jaime told her, his eyes searching her face for any sign of ridicule or laughter. He tilted his face up in a slightly haughty manner, trying to appear unaffected, even as his body stiffened as if bracing itself for a verbal blow.

"So was I," she admitted, flicking the handle of her sword in his direction.

Jaime froze, and then burst out laughing. "You? Do you even know the first thing about being a warrior? You know, I've come across my share of ridiculous things in my lifetime, but a woman fighting with a sword might just top the list." he jeered.

"Is it as ridiculous as a cripple fighting with a sword?"

Jaime shuts up.

Several seconds passed before they gave each other a terse nod, and a silent agreement passed between the both of them. Both would prefer it if no one else figured out what they were doing in the armory at midnight, so they would keep their clandestine encounters to themselves, wordlessly agreeing to keep each other's secrets.

It became an odd sort of routine.

Jaime and Ned both entered the armory at nightfall, silently taking up arms and practicing against training dummies, sometimes going into the woods to avoid detection, ignoring the fact that the other was literally feet away.

Neither spoke to the other, and both were perfectly content with that.

***************

_She was running through Winterfell alongside a direwolf, laughing. Suddenly, the wolf vanished in a puff of smoke._

_Ned was frozen as chains of ice wrapped themselves around her feet. Soundlessly, shapes materialized around her._

_Her dead bannermen, the men she'd led into battle and failed so miserably. Lyanna, her face cold and disapproving, the sister she hadn't saved. Brandon and father, pale and doleful, with a gaping hole in the former's neck and charred, chafed skin peeling off the latter, the family she hadn't warned as strongly as she should have. Benjen, the brother she hadn't protected when he needed her the most._

_All the people she had wronged, all the people she had lost, took form and pushed her immovable body into a hole in the dirt. Slowly, they picked up a shovel full of snow and dumped it over her body, the flurries slipping into the dirt hole, sliding onto her body._

_She was being buried alive._

_Ned yelled, desperately trying to mobilize her motionless limbs. "Stop! Please, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

_Benjen was the last to come. He clasped the iron shovel firmly in his hand, scooping up a large pile of snow._

__

_"Benjen, please!" She begged her little brother, but he merely shook his head, tears slipping down his face._

__

_”You promised, Ned. You promised you'd protect me."_

__

_Her heart tore in two as Benjen dumped the snow pile on her face, filling her nostrils and mouth as she cried out, filling her world with nothing but darkness._

__

Eddara woke up screaming, her head and body drenched in sweat, gasping for breath as she fingered her throat, feeling for the snow that she could've sworn had filled it. Stumbling out of bed, the room spun in front of her eyes as she grabbed a bedpost for support, hastily throwing on a cloak, a dark shirt and some trousers she had salvaged, running to the armory to retrieve her sword.

__

If Jaime was surprised to see her arriving earlier than usual, her face deathly pale, he didn’t comment on it. This time, she went to the godswood to practice, the Lannister hesitantly following her for some unfathomable reason as she set up her training dummy and he set up his. Maybe the old spirits would give her some comfort.

__

She lunged and hacked at the dummy, tearing it to smithereens in frustration with sloppy, uneven strokes before crumpling to the floor.

__

Eddara dimly wondered if it would ever get better. If she would ever reach the end of the tunnel.

__

***************

__

But light could be found in the darkest of nights.

__

Miles away, a dying queen drew her last breath as Daenerys Targaryen drew her first. Queen Rhaella died, and she died _free._

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back!!! It’s so great to write again guys, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! It’s been a very busy month.
> 
> So, let’s start with Eddara. She’s obviously still grieving and quite furious with Rhaegar at the moment. I also decided to keep Ned’s feelings towards Jaime right now somewhat consistent with Ned’s feelings in canon, especially considering she doesn’t know the whole story yet.
> 
> And now, Rhaegar. This is the chapter that really begins to flesh him out as a character. To clarify, I’m not completely justifying everything he did, but I do want to show him as someone who isn’t just a two-dimensional character. He does care about his people, and he recognizes that he didn’t make the best decisions here, but he is a little evasive in some of his answers. Rhaegar’s primary motivation was to get rid of Aerys for his people and his mother all along, but Eddara does still blame him for all the harm that he’s caused her family and others. And she isn’t going to be the only one that questions him either. If you have any questions about Rhaegar’s motivations, feel free to ask.
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts and questions! Feel free to leave any feedback sharing any reflections, as long as it’s not just flames.
> 
> UP NEXT: Varys POV (and possibly Elia)


	9. Death of A Queen

Rhaegar rolled the apple in the palm of his hand. Most of the commoners walked by him without a second glance, the hood of his cloak obscuring his face from view, but a little brown haired girl whose ribs stick out underneath her torn dress stared in amazement, and a pang of sympathy stirred in his heart.

Allowing a smile to cross his face, Rhaegar tossed the apple over to the girl, who caught it in her right hand and shot him a grateful look. The king put a finger over his lips before continuing his stroll.

"Rhaegar, you shouldn't be doing this. It's not safe." Barristan regarded everything that moved in their vicinity with suspicion, and Rhaegar couldn’t help but sigh. There was a time when Barristan would've joined him on his little escapades without a second thought, but it appeared that time had come and gone.

"I know, Barristan. I just needed to get out of the Red Keep."

"You're the king. There are many who would love to seize the opportunity to have you killed. The Riverlands and the Vale are starting to come around to your rule, especially with Targaryen loyalists in charge and the bonds of marriage no longer tying them to each other or the northerners, but they're still not happy with you. The Stormlands resist you as fiercely as their lord did, and the North doesn't like the fact that the son of the man who burnt their lord alive now sits the throne. The only reason they haven't revolted yet is because you have their lady and Lyanna is queen."

"I know. We won’t go out again. Probably."

Barristan let out a little huff, and Rhaegar stifled a chuckle.

The smile vanished from his face, though, upon seeing two commoners try to salvage something from the ruins of their burned house.

"Damn him. Damn Tywin Lannister," the king murmured, before they turned around and headed back to the Red Keep, with rising flames and residual cries of pain echoing in Rhaegar's ears, haunting him as the dreams once had.

He had rid the realm of his father, but the king had never been more acutely aware of his own failures then that moment, as he surveyed the devastation. His realm had been forged with the blood of innocents.

Blood that would never wash off.

***************

The kingsguard knight and the king made their way back to the Red Keep, as Rhaegar ascended the steps to enter his chambers.

Lyanna was already there, wearing a pale silver gown which seemingly blended with the ashen color of her skin. She was looking out a window, not even bothering to glance at him when she spoke.

"You didn't tell me you were going to Flea Bottom."

"I didn't plan on staying long. I was simply checking in on the people."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Some things are worth the risk." It was an attempt at humor, as Rhaegar repeated the phrase which Lyanna had once lived by, once so bold and full of life, but his wife merely flinched when he said it now.

"Not always, Rhaegar. Not always."

She walked over to him, sliding a piece of parchment into his hands before wordlessly leaving the room, closing the door shut behind her. He sighed, his eyes still lingering on the door after her.

They all wanted him to set Lyanna aside, especially the Small Council, but Rhaegar had learned from his mistakes. No, he had made his bed, and now he would lie in it.

Apprehensively, the king sat down at his desk, carefully reading the letter.

Rhaegar recoiled.

His mother was dead.

Rhaella... she had dreamed of this day even more than he had. How many times had they stayed up, imagining a world without his monstrous father? This was supposed to be the day when she could live as a free woman. And yet, cruelly, fate had robbed her of the chance.

He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath before picking up his quill. The court would expect a statement, and a funeral. A king had no time to mourn, no matter how much he wanted to.

***************

At daybreak, Elia Martell’s footsteps echoed down the hallway, as she made her way to the chambers of the man she had once called her husband.

Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.

These were the words of House Martell, and Elia certainly intended to live up to them, as she pushed open the door to the king's solar.

Rhaegar looked up, his indigo eyes wide with surprise while she leveled him a chilly gaze.

"We need to talk."

Slowly, Rhaegar put down his quill before gesturing to the seat in front of him.

She slid into the seat, her golden armband glistening in the sun as she crossed her arms, contrasting sharply with her ebony hair.

"I'm sorry about Queen Rhaella. She was a good woman."

"She was." Rhaegar's expression gave nothing away as he surveyed her warily, but she could see the slight slump in his shoulders, the tiredness in his eyes.

She couldn’t bring herself to care.

“I want to talk about our daughter.”

“Rhaenys? Is something wrong?” Rhaegar’s eyes flashed with alarm, but he relaxed when she shook her head. 

“If you’re even a shred of the man I thought you were, then no. I want my daughter to come before any of Lyanna’s daughters in the line of succession. And I don’t care about your sham of a marriage, Rhaenys _is_ the princess of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Of course she’ll remain legitimate. I would _never_ declare Rhaenys a bastard, she’s my _daughter_. I love her.”

Elia leveled him a cold stare, unimpressed by his show of indignation. “Honestly, Rhaegar, I don’t know what you’re capable of anymore. For you to do something so _foolish_...”

She forced herself to look away, to cool her temper before it reached a boiling point. Oberyn was the passionate tempest whom no one dared cross. Elia was the level-headed one, and she would certainly have to keep the viper at bay if she was to negotiate with a king.

“I’m... I never wanted to hurt you, Elia, that was never-”

“Hurt me? You did something far worse than that. You put our _daughter_ in danger. And for that... for that, I shall never forgive for you. Burn in all seven hells,” she hissed.

Well. So much for levelheadedness, then.

“You know, your grace, I always knew there was little love in our marriage. But I always believed there was respect.”

“I do respect you, Elia. And I tried to protect you! Both of you, I asked Jaime-”

“ _Oberyn_ protected me. My brother is worth ten of your men.”

“I’m sorry, Elia. I would say it a thousand times if I could. For the incident at the tourney, for the annulment... I- I love Rhaenys, I promise you, nothing will ever harm her. Not while her father is king.” The desperation in his tone turned to steely determination, and Elia nodded. Finally, he had said something she could approve of.

“Nothing will ever touch our daughter. Ever.”

“I give you my word.”

The tense atmosphere dissipated slightly into one of reluctant acceptance, as Elia nodded.

“I will never forgive you for what you’ve done. But for Rhaenys, and her alone, I will tolerate your presence. Your grace.” Elia slid out of her seat and turned on her heel, leaving the room without bothering with a bow.

***************

Tywin Lannister bowed to the king, before moving to present his daughter. Cersei Lannister was every bit as beautiful as she was in Harrenhal, if not more, with curls the color of beaten gold that framed her lovely face, accentuating her sharp cheekbones. Her mesmerizing emerald eyes sparkled as she curtsied gracefully to Rhaegar, power and confidence evident in her every step. Cersei was the envy of every woman in Westeros, and she knew it.

"She's quite pretty, isn't she?" Varys whispered in Lady Eddara's ear, and the other woman jumped.

"Lord Varys." The eunuch suppressed a smile at the surprised look she gave him.

"Lady Eddara. It's a shame we haven't met before now. The enigmatical wolf maiden of Winterfell... they whisper stories of you from the North to Dorne, you know."

The lady frowned. "If they whisper of me in Dorne, it is only to curse my name. The Martells are no friends of the Starks now."

Varys winced at her blunt reply.

So, flattery was out, then.

"It appears nothing gets past you, my lady. Send my best regards to your sister, would you? Queen Lyanna looks quite regal, I have no doubt that she will make a wonderful ruler alongside her husband."

It was a boldfaced lie, and for a moment, Lady Eddara almost looked as if she would call him out on it, before changing her mind and seemingly remembering her manners, curtsying to the Master of Whispers.

A suspicious, uneasy expression crossed her face as Varys left, and the eunuch resisted the urge to smile once more. It was refreshing, in a way. People at court were hardly ever as easy to read as Eddara Stark. So, she didn't like lying, then(she was an honorable sort, no doubt, but it would do her no favors in the keep), and she was obviously distrustful.

Lady Eddara hadn't answered him when he was speaking of Lyanna, so perhaps there was some lingering tensions between the Starks? Something to keep in mind for later. Perhaps that bit of information would be useful, in time.

Obviously, thought, the lady needed to refine her skills in the art of politicking. If she spoke like that her entire time at court, her words would certainly get her in trouble, sooner or later.

Although, perhaps her lack of skills in the department of deception was what drew so many powerful men to her in the first place. Arthur Dayne, a kingsguard knight. Robert Baratheon, the man who was almost king. Rhaegar Targaryen, the man who _was_ king.

Varys' eyes missed nothing. It was a skill that had kept him alive under Aerys, and one that he would have to utilize to his full advantage now.

If court was a cyvasse board, Eddara was the trebuchet. Unpredictable and often underestimated, with a possibility of landing anywhere, but dangerous to the dragon if used properly, one of only two pieces that could remove the most powerful piece in the game.

It was best to keep her under watch, then.

***************

Mere days later, Viserys Targaryen stood in front of his mother’s coffin with his brother, as the lords and ladies of the court whispered around them.

Viserys didn't like the nobles. He hadn't liked them when father had been around either, and he certainly didn't like them now, with their false sympathies. Why couldn't he and Rhaegar grieve in private?

"People will expect a public funeral Viserys, and that's what we have to give them," Rhaegar had said when he had asked earlier, sighing as he had scooped up his brother in his arms, and they had both stared at the map of Westeros for what felt like an eternity.

Viserys didn't really understand it. The need for a public funeral, the rebellion begun over a beautiful woman, the fact that his mother was dead and a sister had replaced her.

The young prince stared at Rhaella's open casket until a grey-eyed woman bent down before him, nothing but sympathy in the traitor's gaze. "I am sorry, little one. From all accounts, Queen Rhaella was a good woman."

"I thought you didn’t like my family," he said hesitantly, stepping back, not wanting to be too close to this woman. He didn't care if she was the queen's sister; Viserys didn't like Lyanna either. She may have married into their family, but the woman wasn't a _part_ of their family.

A strange expression crossed her features. "I- whatever ill will I bear your brother does not extend to you, my prince. Truly, I am sorry for your loss."

He nodded uncomfortably, and the peculiar woman finally left, until it was just him. Him, and Rhaegar, and little Dany, mourning mother, the way it always should have been. Mother and father were gone; they were the last dragons left.

***************

Jaime paced down the hallway impatiently, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls.

"Jaime."

He froze, and spun on his heel.

And there she was. With golden locks flowing down her shoulders like a lion's mane, and eyes the color of jade, so similar to his own.

“Cersei.”

He reached for her like a man dying of thirst would grasp a cup of water, desperation replaced with exhilaration at the mere sight of her.

“What are you doing?”

Cersei’s tone and frown took him aback, as her slender palms removed his hands from her cheeks.

“I- what do you mean? Cersei, it’s... we’re finally together, after all these months-”

“We cannot be careless, Jaime.” Cersei’s annoyance crept into her voice, as she pulled her red shawl over her head. “The last thing we need is this to get back to the king.”

He frowned.

“The king? What does Rhaegar have to do with any of this?”

“You didn’t know? Jaime, father plans to have me marry Rhaegar.”

Jaime’s blood ran cold. 

“But- I thought- he’s married to Lyanna. And besides, why would you want to marry Rhaegar?”

“Lyanna Stark is a silly girl playing at a game she doesn’t understand. Father will get his way, he always does. And don’t be foolish, Jaime, I’d be _queen_ if Rhaegar married me.” A haughty expression crossed Cersei’s face, her dark eyes gleaming with an unquenchable thirst for power, one of the few things that had ever set them apart. 

He stepped back, coldness seeping into veins. “Then why... why did you come?” 

“To warn you away. What happened before, it can’t continue. Atleast, not here, not now.”

He scowled at the implication in her words. “You mean not _ever_.”

Jaime turned and walked away, even as his sister called his name and vainly attempted to grasp his hand, her palm oustretched and reaching to him.

And he hated himself more than he could ever say for still wanting to reach back.

But he didn’t. He disappeared down the corridor with his sword in hand, never noticing the cloaked figure at the top of the staircase, silently surveying them both.

***************

Jaime twisted the sword in his grip in frustration, blindly swinging at the training dummy and hacking it into pieces, anger clouding his vision.

“Your grip is wrong.”

Jaime froze and turned to face Eddara Stark, who was standing mere feet away, her grey orbs meeting his green ones uncertainly. It was the first time that either of them had said a word to each other, and he didn’t know how to feel about this disruption in their well-established routine.

She herself seemed shocked that the words had come out of her mouth, but Eddara slowly walked over to him anyway, gently rotating his wrist around the hilt of his sword.

“My brother was left handed. The grip is slightly different.”

He nodded awkwardly as she stepped away like a silent shadow flitting away into the night, but before his nerve could leave him, he called out, “Wait!”

“Would you... I mean, do you want to practice with me?”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment he was afraid that she would turn down the invitation. But hesitantly, she raised her sword, and he raised his. Given that she had grown up a lady, he doubted she’d be any good, but he supposed it was better than a training dummy.

Seconds later, as his sword fell to the ground, Jaime realized that she was much, _much_ better than a training dummy.

“Your parry was terrible. You didn’t put enough force behind it.” she said tonelessly, her eyes cold and unfeeling, even if her stooped posture belied her weariness. Jaime’s skin prickled at the insult.

“My parry was fine.”

Eddara shrugged. “If you hold the blade like this — no, not like that, like _this_ — it’ll help you strike harder.” 

“Fine. But my parry wasn’t terrible.”

She sighed. “Alright, it wasn’t terrible. It could just use improvement. Happy?”

“I’m as happy as you are,” he remarked sarcastically.

Eddara scowled.

"Can you take this seriously?"

"Can you take a joke?" Jaime retorted.

A tense silence ensued, before the expression on Jaime's face softened.

"I know it's tough, Eddara. But you have to move on. You have to live your life."

"Trust me, I _know._ "

And he did know. Jaime might not have lost anyone in the war, but in a strange sort of way, he had lost _himself._

"You're right. I didn't think you'd be the one to tell me... but you're right," she replied, setting her sword down, eyes tilted up to stare at the crescent moon.

***************

The war may have left her _battered_ , may have left her _bruised_ , but it has not left her _broken._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It’s great to be back! This time of the year has just been crazy for me, and I’ve been working on a new fic which I also plan to post today or tomorrow, which is why I haven’t been able to update for a while, but hopefully I should be able to update every few weeks from here.
> 
> So, I tried something new with this chapter, where I experimented with a bunch of different POVs and deliberately didn’t have an Eddara POV(unless you want to count the last line of the chapter). I know it might be a little jarring, and in future chapters I won’t be having this many POV changes, but it was fun to try something different.
> 
> The reason for the POVs is because you guys have mainly seen the story from Eddara’s perspective, but I wanted to show the aftermath of the rebellion through the lens of different characters, which I hope was interesting. To be honest, this wasn’t my best chapter, but things should start picking up from here in terms of courtly intrigue.
> 
> So, to summarize, Rhaegar and Lyanna are regretful, Elia is ticked off(understandably), Varys is doing what he does best (watching and waiting), Viserys doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, and Jaime just can’t seem to catch a break.
> 
> So, who do you guys think was the cloaked figure? Which POV did you like the best and which POV would you be interested in seeing in the coming chapters?
> 
> If you liked what you read or have any questions, please comment! Comments really are very encouraging in terms of continuing the fic. Feedback is always appreciated, as long as it’s not just flames.


	10. Secrets of the Keep

“You’re getting better.”

Jaime hesitated before nodding at Eddara, sheathing his sword as they finished up their practice. “Thank you.”

Eddara decided she liked sparring with Jaime Lannister. Neither of them talked very much, except for giving each other sparring tips. 

Which both were comfortable with. She didn’t know what either of them would talk about anyway.

She placed her sword in the armory and pulled her cloak tighter over her shoulders, walking back to her room.

She closed the door and pulled on her nightgown, walking over to the candles to blow them out before she noticed a letter on her desk, right below an open window.

Ned frowned. She hadn’t seen anyone come in to drop off a letter. Slowly, she unfolded the paper, and began reading its contents.

_Lady Eddara,_  
_This is Maester Walys. I hope this letter finds you well. I cannot imagine what you are going through, Lady Stark, your father and brothers were good men. But you are Winterfell’s lady now, and I known your father raised you well. Lady Catelyn is still here with us, although I believe the king may ask her to join her sister in King’s Landing._

_Lady Catelyn and I are managing Winterfell in your stead, but we would welcome your opinion on matters pertaining to running the castle. The household is still reeling from the rebellion, and the King and his council have imposed new taxes on the North. I was hoping you would be able to speak with him on this matter; the taxes are a cumbersome burden on our lands, especially after the expenses associated with the war. We would welcome your advice on how to handle this matter._

_We would also be... interested in any information you have on the affairs of the Red Keep, Lady Eddara. I think it would reassure the northernmen and our allies to know that no other retribution was coming their way._

_Stay strong, Lady Stark._

She stared in disbelief, her head spinning as she closed the letter and sat down on her bed, the ending of the letter echoing in her head. 

Apparently she had friends in the Red Keep after all.

**************

The next morning was a blur, as Eddara’s mind dwelled on her letter. She desperately wished to inquire further on the state of her home and craft a response to the maester.

Unfortunately, that evening Rhaegar and Lyanna had planned a great feast, one that she was not allowed to miss.

Eddara’s footsteps echoed down the hallways as she made her way to the dining hall, her blue gown trailing slightly behind her. She heard the soft murmurs of noblemen and women as she entered the hall, taking a seat at a table off to the side next to Lysa.

The king and queen sat at the head of the table, quietly conversing with one another. Lyanna tilted her head up, briefly catching her eye in acknowledgement before both of them looked away.

Eddara’s gaze lingered on the group of Martells, where Elia was bouncing a delighted Rhaenys on her lap, with Oberyn watching them both fondly. Ashara Dayne, one of Princess Elia’s confidants, smiled at her friend, but it seemed a little strained on her thin, wane face.

The Dornish party intrigued her. They didn’t quite fit in at court, and yet they carried an air of mystery, an aura of power that surrounded the Martell family.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

Eddara turned around in surprise, and stared at Jaime Lannister in shock. 

Lannister fidgeted in his red and golden doublet as he awaited Eddara’s answer.

“Of-of course.”

Jaime nodded awkwardly, before sliding into the seat next to her.

Ned could see Lady Cersei frowning at them from where she sat, closer to the king due to her father’s position at court, but Jaime seemed to be avoiding his sister’s gaze.

Lysa had been invited to dance by some nobleman, so it was just the two of them now, as Jaime shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had looked far more comfortable in knight’s armor than the lord’s clothing he wore now.

Lords and ladies danced before them, giggling and laughing. Eddara marveled at their ability to move on from the war so quickly, but then again, they weren’t on the losing side.

Next to her, Jaime winced as one of the ladies let out a particularly high shriek of laughter, coyly twisting her hair around her finger as one of the lords kissed her hand.

“I can't believe my father actually wants me to marry one of these idiots. They all look garish, don't they? Fluttering around like hens, the sycophants," Jaime stated, taking drink from his wine glass and eying everyone around them in disgust.

"Not all of them. Lord Hightower looks quite resplendent in green."

"Lord Hightower's arse is so large it's a miracle he can fit inside the holdfast."

Ned snorted, nearly spitting out her wine as she doubled over in laughter, a redness blooming in her cheeks as she nearly fell out of her seat.

Jaime stared at her, aghast. "Eddara, it wasn't _that_ funny."

"I know, I know," she chuckled, restraining herself. "It's just... it's been a while since I've laughed, that's all."

Jaime nodded slowly, and she thought she saw the corners if his mouth twitch upwards before he turned around.

***************

It became as routine as their swordfights at night, sitting next to each other in the dining hall.

Surprisingly, she found that they did have much to talk about. Jaime, not being a hostage, had more access to information than she did, and he told her about the skirmishes in the North and the Stormlands.

“Although, Rhaegar did take Stannis and Renly hostage in their castle instead of killing them outright, which may be quelling the uprising somewhat.”

“Stannis and Renly are alive?” Jaime nodded, and Ned let out a sigh of relief. The children didn’t deserve to pay for their elders’ mistakes.

“Thank you, Jaime.”

He shrugged, but Eddara could tell he was pleased. 

They made idle conversation then about the nobles of the court and upcoming tourneys, and Eddara found that debating which kingsguard knight was the best made for a good pastime, and a welcome distraction from their current situations. Although, a wariness lingered within her. 

She was, after all, talking to a Kingslayer. And yet, looking around at the treacherous, opportunistic nobles who surrounded them at court, she wondered if he was really all that much worse.

Ned couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that she and Jaime had somewhat informally decided they were friends, but if she were to guess, it would be somewhere around the time that Jaime and her had started conversing even during their sparring sessions, arguing about Ser Arthur versus Ser Barristan(of course, even though she defended the latter, Arthur was just a little better, but she didn’t say that because she enjoyed their arguments, and she suspected he did as well, even if neither of them would ever admit it).

For the most part, the two of them kept to themselves. Lysa had befriended a group of ladies from the Reach, and Eddara was happy for her. Lysa had seemed lonely in the aftermath of the war, but it appeared that she, like Ned herself, had seen the necessity of having a companion.

It was interesting, though, to see the role Lysa’s new friends played at the divided court. At the top of the hierarchy sat the king and queen, Rhaegar and Lyanna, who Eddara actively went out of her way to avoid. She was, of course, at the bottom of the ladder, a hostage which everyone seemed to know better than to befriend. Well, everyone except Jaime, and for that, she was grateful.

Then, there were the noblemen of the Reach, men like Mace Tyrell, as well as the lords of the Crownlands. Those who had followed Rhaegar into war and had remained loyal to him, not Aerys. Of course, the Tyrells hadn’t exactly helped Rhaegar and had mainly focused on conquering the Stormlands for Aerys, but they had certainly acted as if they were truly on his side all along when Rhaegar took the throne.

Eddara wasn’t quite sure if she believed them, and she didn’t know if anyone else did either, but they were loyal to Rhaegar nonetheless.

The Martells were another faction, somehow seperate from the rest and yet still powerful and influential in their own right.

Lords of the Vale and the Riverlands who had bent the knee to Rhaegar were also present at court, and Ned’s stomach turned everytime she caught a glimpse of them. 

_You should have died with honor._

Should they have, though? Could Ned truly fault them for wanting to live, not only for themselves but also their children? How many times had she begged her own father and Brandon not to reclaim their sister’s honor by travelling to King’s Landing?

Honor and duty were ideas that belonged in her books, but in a world filled more in shades of grey than black or white, Eddara wondered what those ideals even _meant._

****************

A few days later, Eddara was walking down the hallways of the keep once more when one of Elia’s handmaidens stumbled out of her room, giggling. 

“Melara, get back in- oh, Lady Eddara...” Lady Ashara’s voice trailed off as she saw Ned in the hallway, who nodded hesitantly as the other handmaiden slipped back into the room. 

“Lady Ashara. I hope you’re well.”

Lady Ashara didn’t _look_ well, and really hadn’t ever since she’d returned from Starfall, but was still easily one of the most beautiful women at court, lovelier than Lyanna even, with pale purple eyes the color of violets and ebony curls framing her delicate face. 

“Yes, I-I am, thank you for asking. The last time we saw each other was Harrenhal, wasn’t it? You looked a little different then.”

Ned shrugged, not knowing quite what to say. Undoubtedly, she looked different now— she felt like a different person now. Eddara didn’t know if she even recognized that girl from Harrenhal, the one with innocent eyes, duty ingrained in her soul, and a heart wide open to the blows that fate had dealt her.

“Would you like to join us?” Eddara blinked, startled by the other woman’s request, and inside she could hear the other inhabitants of the room become silent.

“Of course.” Ned was surprised when the words came out of her mouth, and she thought Ashara was surprised too, although she didn’t say it, and merely beckoned her inside.

Elia’s room was large, and richly decorated with Dornish carpets and tapestries. The princess herself was laying down in her armchair, her dark brown eyes tracking Ned curiously and warily, while Oberyn narrowed his eyes from where he sat on the ground with a woman in his arms. In the middle of the room was a cyvasse board, and it was clear she had interrupted the game, as the Dornish whispered and stared at her.

“What is she doing here?” Oberyn asked, making a motion to stand up before his sister laid a hand on his arm.

“Hush, Oberyn. Lady Eddara is a guest,” Elia reprimanded gently, before greeting Ned with a smile. “Welcome, Lady Stark.”

Eddara curtsied, because Elia was still a princess whether she was married to Rhaegar or not. “Thank you, princess.”

Lady Ashara motioned for Ned to sit next to her, and she obeyed. Some secret communication seemed to pass between the Martell siblings and Ashara then, as Oberyn cocked his head and Ashara flicked her hand, but the Dornish resumed their activities soon enough, indulging in wine and gossiping amongt themselves.

“How do you like King’s Landing, my lady?” Princess Elia asked her, in a manner that almost made the question seem like a test. A test that Eddara would not want to fail.

“It— well, I haven’t seen very much of it, my lady. Most of it was on fire when we first entered the city. And since then, I’ve only been in the Red Keep, which can be... confining.”

She must have said the right thing, because Prince Oberyn relaxed ever so slightly, and the princess’ smile widened into a genuine one. “You know, I thought something similar when I first came here. People always speak of this city’s greatness, but it hardly compares to Sunspear.”

“Sunspear is far superior to any city in all of Westeros. Our Tower of the Sun has no equal,” Oberyn boasted, glancing at Ned almost daringly.

“I’m afraid I’ve never been to Sunspear, or any part of Dorne, for that matter. Could you describe it to me?”

Elia’s eyes brightened, and she regaled Eddara with tales of her youth spent there, with Ashara interjecting every so often. Oberyn mostly sat and watched her, but Ned didn’t mind it, nor did she blame him, considering the circumstances.

Ashara asked her about her home then, and Eddara didn’t know what to say, for Winterfell was nothing compared to the grandeur of the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

“It isn’t any great beauty, but it’s a sturdy fortresss. Resilient against even the winter winds and summer snows.”

Hours passed before Ned realized that she should probably return to her quarters, and bid the Martells and their companions a good night.

As she walked back to her room, Eddara decided she liked the Martells. They were looser in their mannerisms and customs, in a way that may have scandalized her when she was younger and in the North, but their carefree nature was something that she welcomed now.

***************

“Well? What do you think of her?” Elia asked, rotating her glass of wine ever so slightly as Lady Eddara left her quarters.

“She seemed honest enough. But her sister seemed like a sweet thing too, in Harrenhal, before Rhaegar put that crown on her head,” her brother reminded her. 

“You both liked Ned in Harrenhal,” Ashara protested, and Elia patted her dearest friend on the back reassuringly. Ashara had taken a liking to the Stark, but the princess couldn’t help but wonder if this was Ashara’s way of... well, never mind that now. Bringing _that_ up was just asking for trouble.

“Lady Eddara’s loyalties cannot be counted upon. She may not be the same woman she was in Harrenhal, and while she seemed honorable enough to give Elia back her crown, she also seemed friendly with her sister after the incident at that tourney. We cannot trust her— atleast, not yet.”

Elia nodded in agreement. Oberyn’s distrust of outsiders could lean towards the extreme, but his caution, in this case, was prudent. 

For now, they would watch, and wait.

Eddara Stark could be an enemy in disguise, but if they played their cards right, she could be a most valuable ally.

***************

Ned closed the door behind her as she entered her room, and she sat down at her desk, pulling up a piece of parchment. There was no putting it off any longer; the letter demanded a response.

_Dear Maester Walys,_  
_I have received your letter. I know father had some gold set aside in the vaults; perhaps we can draw on those funds to pay off the war reparations, and raise taxes at a slower rate on the people to give them more time to adjust. I will try to speak with Rhaegar on this matter._

_Give Lady Catelyn and the others my best, and continue to run the household as you are. I’m sure the lady knows what she is doing. However, please keep me informed on any new developments, both inside the castle and out of it. I’ve heard rumors that there is some... restlessness, after the rebellion._

_As for the Red Keep, everyone is in a celebratory mood here. Well, mostly everyone. I.. I haven’t heard much, but it may interest you to know that Stannis and Renly are still alive in the Stormlands. And apparently, the North is not the only land feeling restless._

Eddara paused, her heart thumping in her chest. Communication between the rebelling kingdoms was banned. And a hostage, detailing uprisings in other areas of the Seven Kingdoms, divulging information that no one outside the Red Keep and Storm’s End likely even knew yet...

That was treason.

And yet, she had no other choice. Maester Walys had asked her for the information, and she was too desperate for the contact, too desperate for any scrap of information about Winterfell not too respond to his inquiries.

Slowly, she set her quill aside and folded the parchment, tying it with a ribbon.

Now, how to send it? She wasn’t allowed to send out communications by raven yet.

Uncertainly, Eddara left the letter on her desk, in the exact same spot the last letter had been. She knew she had a friend in the keep, someone who had delivered the first letter to her. Perhaps they would find her again. 

By the time she woke up, the letter was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know these updates are taking a while, but I’ve gotten back to writing chapters a little ahead of time which is why they’re taking a while. 
> 
> So to recap, Eddara is making friends. But everyone has their secrets, Ned included, and no one is safe in King’s Landing.
> 
> Tell me your thoughts!
> 
> UP NEXT: Ashara has a secret.


	11. Honor and Redemption

“I’m afraid I cannot do that.”

Rhaegar crossed his arms, staring at Eddara impassively. He was surrounded by his Small Council, and they all eyed her warily as she spoke.

“The North is suffering, your grace. My people cannot afford to pay the new taxes you have levied on us. Please— do not punish _them_ for my family’s mistakes.”

The words tasted like ashes on her tongue, a betrayal of her brothers and her father who had died to save their sister. And yet, this was how she must play this— if her and her people were to survive. Make it seem as if the fault lied with her family and no one else.

“And _your_ mistakes, Lady Eddara,” Lord Tywin reminded her, narrowing his eyes. “Your people should be grateful that the king and his council have been this merciful so far.”

_Merciful? You call making my people starve merciful?_

She lowered her head in false repentance. “Forgive me, my lords. I only wish to speak on behalf of my people, to give them a voice when they have none.”

“They have none because your father committed treason,” Grandmaester Pyelle snapped, and never had Eddara wanted to break a man’s neck more.

But Rhaegar raised his hand, and everyone fell still. His indigo eyes probed hers, a silent question hidden in their depths, but she met him with nothing but a cool, steely gaze.

“If the burden is indeed too heavy, perhaps the council should debate the merits of raising taxes by half the amount we had previously decided on. It would not do to have people starving in the streets, and that is not how I want to begin my reign as king. Lady Eddara, you are dismissed.”

Eddara curtsied, leaving and closing the door behind her as the small council erupted in fervent whispers.

She had done all she could for the North. Now, she would just have to wait. 

***************

Eddara absentmindedly took a stroll in the godswood, her hands idly brushing past daisies and violets, before she suddenly felt a small prick on her wrist.

Withdrawing her hand from a bush of white roses, Eddara brushed her thumb over the spot where the pale flower had drawn a speck of blood.

“Those thorns are sharper than they look, aren’t they?”

Ned raised her head, watching as the Lady Ashara approached her cautiously, but with a friendly smile on her face.

“I tried to pick some for Elia the other day, but I kept getting nicked by those damn thorns. They are beautiful, though...” Ashara said forlornly, tracing one of the petals.

“I’m surprised they grow here, I was told white roses mainly grew in the North and Highgarden,” Eddara responded. 

“They’re rarer here, but not unheard of.”

Ashara looped her arm around Ned’s, and together, they silently walked down the cobblestone path.

Ashara led her to a redwood tree, sitting underneath it and patting the grass next to her, motioning for Eddara to sit as well.

“I- there is something I would like to inform you of, Lady Stark.”

“Yes, Lady Ashara?” Eddara inquired politely, already growing curious.

“I...” Ashara’s voice trembled, her fingers shaking amongst the strands of grass, and Eddara laid a hand on the other lady’s arm in concern.

“Lady Ashara, are you alright? Do you need something, you look awfully pale.”

Lady Dayne clutched Eddara’s arm like it was a lifeline, a single tear trickling down her cheek.

“No, my lady, I’m not alright. I should’ve told you this long ago.”

“At Harrenhal, your brother and I— we...”

“It’s alright, my lady. I already know.”

Ashara looked up, stunned. “You do?”

“Yes, I know what happened. And truly, I am sorry. I loved my brother, but he was a careless man, and not without his faults,” Eddara told her. _Mayhaps, if he had been a little more careful, he would still be alive._

“That— I’m afraid that isn’t _all,_ Lady Stark. You see, after Harrenhal... there is no proper way to say this, but I realized I was pregnant. With your brother’s child.”

Eddara lurched back, her head spinning. “Lady Ashara, certainly this is a jape...”

“I would not jape about something like this. Lady Eddara, I thought you should know... the child was a stillborn. It never took a breath,” Ashara choked the words out, squeezing her eyes shut.

A tiny pinprick of hope, that Ned was not alone in this world, was not the last of the Starks, was crushed as quickly as it had come. Of course the babe had not survived. Otherwise, Ashara would not look so pale and sick with grief as she had the past few weeks.

“Thank you for telling me this, Ashara. And... you can call me Ned.” The words sounded hollow, even to Eddara’s ears, but she thought Ashara ought to call her by her nickname after sharing something so personal with her.

Eddara took Ashara’s hand and squeezed it, the sole comfort she could give a woman who had lost her child, and she mourned the little babe she had never even known. A babe with Brandon’s laughing grey eyes and wild mane of hair, the color of the night sky. Ned soothed the other lady as best as she could, patting her sympathetically on the back, but knowing that nothing she could say would ever make a difference in the face of such a great loss.

She did, after all, know what it was like to lose family.

***************

Lady Ashara lingered on her mind that night, as Ned parried Jaime’s blade.

“You’re distracted,” her companion pointed out, as Jaime disarmed her for the first time since they’d begun their illicit practices.

“I’m thinking.”

“Obviously.” Jaime rolled his eyes. “At this rate, I might as well practice with the training dummy.”

A month ago, Eddara might’ve been angered by that remark. Now, she knew that Jaime was merely blunt in his manner of speaking, never holding back for anybody, not just her. 

He was looking at her as if he expected an answer, but Eddara would never betray Ashara’s confidence, not even to her closest friend. Not that Eddara even really had a closest friend… she supposed she had acquaintances and companions here, like Lysa and Jaime, but they were all individuals who still barely knew one another, brought together by mutual hardship and little else.

“Why did you kill Aerys?”

She surprised even herself by asking the unspoken question, the one that had been plaguing her since she arrived at King’s Landing, but she had never bothered to ask.

She hadn’t cared much before, seeing Jaime as a kingslayer and little else. But the practices and quiet conversations around the dinner table, the fact that Jaime still stayed next to her at court despite being aware of her lowly position, had been enough to convince her that there was more to this tale. There _had_ to be.

Jaime froze, staring at her warily. “Why? Why now?”

“Because I want to know.”

He looked at her as if he’d never seen her before, carefully sheathing his sword.

“Why does it matter? You all see me the same anyway.”

“Perhaps I won’t, if I understand why.” 

He shook his head. “You want to know why I killed the king? I don’t know, maybe because he was mad?” he said sarcastically, but she felt like he was deflecting somehow. Sarcasm came as naturally to Jaime as breathing, but something in his posture suggested that he was on the defensive.

“Is that all? You killed him because he was mad?”

“He was mad, and he asked me to kill my own father when he sacked the city. Oh, and we can’t forget how he ordered the pyromancer to burn everyone in King’s landing now, can we?”

Ned blinked, stunned. “He... he wanted to burn down King’s Landing?”

“Burn them all,” Jaime said bitterly, looking everywhere but her face.

She shook her head, reeling.

“I... I believe you.”

Jaime looked at her, skepticism in his gaze. “Do you?”

“After everything I’ve seen of you so far? Yes, I do. And... and I commend you for it. For what you did.”

This time, it was Jaime who looked shocked.

“The honorable Eddara Stark approves of the actions of a kingslayer? The same woman who refused to run off with and marry a prince to salvage her honor? Certainly not.”

“You may have a solemn duty to protect the king as stated in the kingsguard’s vows, Jaime, but what about the first vows you swore? The ones you uttered when you became a knight?”

“A knight has a duty to defend the innocent. Protect those who cannot protect themselves. And that is exactly what you did, when you plunged your sword into Aerys’ back and protected the people of King’s Landing. You broke your vows as a kingsguard to uphold the ones you made as a knight. So yes, Jaime — I believe you are a man of honor.” 

Silence ensued, as Jaime digested her words. And ever so slowly, the smallest of smiles crawled across his face, as he dipped his head in an unspoken acknowledgement.

“Thank you, Ned.”

Eddara nodded, before a thought suddenly occurred to her. “How did you know about Rhaegar and I?”

Jaime looked at her sympathetically. “Nothing stays secret for long in the Red Keep.”

Her cheeks flushed crimson, but she doesn’t break his gaze. 

Let them whisper what they will. It will take more than their whispers to break her. And it will take more than their whispers to break him, too, she suspects.

Jaime and Eddara raised their swords, and began once more.

And yet, there was something different now. An unspoken tension that once lingered over them has dissipated, once and for all.

**************

Eddara stood in the throne room once more, where the king presided over the daily proceedings of the court. 

All around her, nobles congregated and gossiped freely about the day’s events.

“Have you heard? The Lady Jeyne eloped a few nights ago with a minor lordling! How dreadful!” a woman in an ivory gown screeched, her delighted face contrasting sharply with her outraged words as the young ladies of the court giggled around her.

Eddara scrunched her nose. She hated the South for many things, but perhaps nothing was worse than the judgement one faced here. In the North, everyone was too concerned about surviving the winter to worry about much else.

It was different here. Nobles had far too much time on their hands for rumors and gossip, and every time Ned attended court, she felt their gaze raking over her skin and plain face, dissecting every feature. 

“A hint, Lady Eddara? Do not sport your emotions so clearly on your face. I assure you, many lords and ladies here openly despise others at court, but I do not think any of them show it as clearly as you do.”

The Spider stepped next to her, and Eddara nearly jumped out of her skin. There was something about Varys that made Ned’s skin crawl, despite the warm, welcoming exterior the man tried so obviously to exude.

“I shall keep that in mind, Lord Varys.”

He nodded absently. “Do heed my advice, child, and control what others perceive of you. Especially given that... well, in your situation, you have control of very little to begin with.”

She thought his comment was an insult at first, but she saw no malice in the eyes of the Master of Whispers. “It was smart of you to appeal directly to Rhaegar in the matter of taxes. I believe he may be convinced to grant you some leniency.” 

He paused, then continued. “Find the right people, Lady Eddara, and you can prosper here. You may be a hostage, my lady, but in time, opportunities will begin to... present themselves to you. You only need to know how to use them.”

He left her with his mysterious words hanging over her like an ominous cloud, and she found herself relaxing immediately without his presence, as the words of the lords around her once again drifted to her ears.

“...yes, terrible thing with the rebels... attack at Estermont...” Ned perked her head up slightly at hearing of her former friend’s home. Tracing the source of the sound to the corner, she spotted two lords discussing something in a hushed manner, their eyes darting around.

Slowly, she made her way over towards them, standing a respectable distance away but still close enough to catch a few more words.

“...escaped to Braavos ... failed to track him... may be building an army...”

“... certainly Robert cannot-” 

“Lady Eddara?”

One of the lords turned to her, a polite yet guarded expression on his face. With a jolt, she realized she had leaned in just a little too close.

“May we help you with something?”

“N-no, my lord, thank you for asking.” She gave him a shallow curtsy before hurrying away, leaving the hall, her head filled with jumbled thoughts.

She couldn’t be sure, but from what she had heard...

Robert might be building up an army.

And so, in the dead of night, she drafted yet another letter, drenching her quill in ink once more.

 _Maester Walys,_  
_It may interest you to know that Robert may be alive in Braavos. I’m not entirely sure, but I believe that the king’s men are trying to find him and kill him as we speak. Send aid if you can. Also, there may have been a recent insurrection of sorts near Estermont._

_I’m still working on the taxes. Send word as quickly as possible._

_Regards,_

_  
Lady Eddara_

What she was doing was a risk. Indeed, Eddara wondered if it’s a risk she should be taking at all. Robert had been part of the decision that had gotten her brother killed.

And so had Jon Arryn. But then so had Eddara herself, for that matter. _I should have fought harder._

Yet Robert had still promised to free her from this place, to come back to Westeros one day and win back the rebellion he had lost before. She doubted he could accomplish such a thing... but for now, Ned had to make the most of every chance she had to free herself. 

Even if deep down she knew she could never forgive Robert, not really. 

But if Eddara was caught sending such information beyond the castle walls...

She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if she was caught. But Ned was a desperate woman, and desperate people did desperate things. 

So with a storm raging in her conflicted heart, she folded the letter and laid it on her drawing desk once more, waiting for her secret ally to deliver it.

************

Predictably, the letter was gone again as the first ray of the rising sun lighted the sky.

Eddara was hardly surprised this time around as she got up to dress, carefully putting on a light blue gown with cotton flowers stitched in at the top. It was one of the prettier dresses she owned.

Varys’ words echoed in her heart as she made her way down to the chambers of the princess of Dorne.

_Opportunities will begin to present themselves to you. You only need to learn how to use them._

He was right. The time to idly sit by, moaning and weeping of the past, was gone. It was time for Eddara to take her future into her own hands, to take advantage of every opportunity that came her way, lest she spend her final days languishing in the keep.

She will find a way back to the North, back to her people. She _will._

She knocked on the princess’ door, a newfound boldness seizing her as Ashara opened it. “Ned,” she whispered. 

“Ashara.” Eddara’s voice was sympathetic and soft, as she clasped the other woman’s hand. “I hope I’m not intruding. I simply wanted to check in on you, and I had a feeling you would be in the princess’ chambers.”

“I’m feeling much better, my lady. Would you like to come in?”

Ned hesitated before nodding, and Ashara opened the door wider. There was yet another gathering of Dornish nobles in Elia’s chambers, although this group was smaller than the other one.

But this group did not stare at her as the other one did, and quickly parted to give Eddara and Ashara a clear path towards the princess. 

Princess Elia looked radiant, draped in gold and sunset colored fabrics, laughing as Rhaenys twirled around her.

“And how do you like your new dress, my love?”

“I love it mother!” the dark-haired young girl giggled, kissing Elia on the cheek, and Ned’s heart warmed at the sight. 

“Lady Eddara, it’s good of you to join us.” Prince Oberyn greeted her with a slight nod of his head, friendlier than the last time she had seen him. 

“You as well, my prince.”

“Come, Eddara. Sit.” Elia gestured for the young woman to come closer to her.

“This is my daughter, the princess Rhaenys.”

Ned curtsied before the little girl, winking at her, making her giggle again and bury her face in her mother’s long raven locks.

“Rhaenys is a shy thing, she’ll warm up to you soon enough,” Elia smiled, stroking her daughter’s hair.

“She is as beautiful as her mother,” Eddara complimented, taking a seat on the silken carpet with Lady Ashara. 

“Rhaenys, luckily, does take after her mother. In the years to come, if she should ascend the throne, Westeros will have the most beautiful queen in decades,” Oberyn praised, tickling the young girl under her chin, but his eyes never left Ned’s.

“Isn’t that right, Lady Eddara?”

She swallowed. “Of course, Prince Oberyn. She will be a very beautiful queen, if the king has no other heirs.”

“If the king has no other heirs. Well, I certainly haven’t heard any rumours of any upcoming heirs, have you?”

There is a hidden question within the spoken one which Oberyn had uttered aloud, as all eyes turned towards Eddara, and her throat went dry. 

Ned felt as if she was suddenly thrust into the heat of battle, a Valyrian blade digging into her tongue, except it was a war of words that she had now entered. An arena in which she had no prior skill or knowledge.

Eddara would simply have to learn. 

“I have not heard anything as well.” She paused. “If I do, though, I’ll be sure to inform you, if you’d like.”

Elia and Oberyn exchanged a long look. Her heart thumped in anticipation, even as guilt seeped into her veins.

She was betraying Lyanna, by promising to tell the Martells if her sister fell pregnant. Choosing outsiders over her own flesh and blood. Betraying her pack... except it wasn’t a pack, not anymore.

Rhaegar and Lyanna had seen to that.

She stood up a little bit straighter then. The North whispered her name, and that was all she could afford to think about anymore.

She was the Lady of Winterfell, her father’s sole living heir. Eddara had a duty to her people that superseded all else.

Even her sister. 

“I think I would like that, Lady Eddara. After all, my former husband and I do not talk as much as we once used to, and I would very much like to stay informed of any developments affecting Rhaenys.”

Ned nodded in a silent affirmation, and she felt something click into place between the four of them there, as the other Dornishmen went back to discussing whatever else they had been talking about before.

Elia absentmindedly patted Rhaenys’ head as the young girl curled up in her mother’s lap, closing her eyes. “My daughter is more dear to me than anything else in this world. Your gesture is not unappreciated, my lady.”

“In time, I think you shall find that House Martell is quite generous to her allies. Perhaps more so than you might expect.”

Eddara felt herself relax as the princess spoke the words she had been waiting to hear. It was not a guarantee — nothing was a guarantee in this place — but at Lyanna’s expense, she had bought herself a chance. A chance to one day go home.

At that, she could not help but feel a bit of self-loathing as well. She had come here with the pretense of comforting Ashara, and yet that had not been her goal. Ned cared about the other girl, of course, but she cared about going home more. That was the truth, the painful, ugly, truth. 

She had become the kind of person she had always despised by coming here, by playing this little game of secrets, lies, and deception with them. And as much as she hated herself a little for it, she would not stop. Could not stop.

Eddara had lost everything, and if she was to gain any of it back, this was what had to be done. 

The _honorable_ Eddara Stark, indeed. By the time she escaped this place, Ned wondered just how much of her honor she’d have left.

*****************

Mere hours later, she found herself being escorted to Rhaegar’s chambers by Prince Lewyn. 

Eddara could not even bring herself to look at him. They stopped outside the king’s door, but before Ned could enter, Lewyn laid a hand on the door.

“Lady Eddara. I do not believe I have had the chance to properly—”

“Please, Prince Lewyn. Spare me your empty words and condolences. I do not want to hear them.”

“Your brother fought bravely, and died with—”

She slapped him, a whirlwind of fury cracking her normally frigid, composed exterior.

Ned was so _sick_ of that word. 

Honor, honor, honor. What was honor? Was it honorable to kill a boy of fourteen summers because he was your enemy and you were at war, and that was what men did in war? Was it honorable, to kill a king you had sworn to protect, to defend the people you had also sworn to protect? Was it honorable to betray your family and use a friend in order to get back to and protect your own people? Was it honorable to act as a spy and a traitor to a king you had never really sworn allegiance to in the first place, passing along information you knew would strengthen your own position at the expense of others?

She didn’t know. She didn’t know anymore, not really, and that frightened her more than anything.

Her head cooled, her anger simmered, and she suddenly realized she had just raised a hand against a knight of the kingsguard. “Prince Lewyn, I did not mean—”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You never will.”

The prince bowed before taking his leave, and Eddara almost felt a measure of guilt at the red mark she had left upon his face. 

But she could never forgive him for what he had done. Never.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Eddara entered Rhaegar’s chambers once more.

***************

“Your grace.” Ned performed a shallow curtsy, staring at the king impassively. The air crackled with tension between them.

A silver crown decorated Rhaegar’s hair, as he stared at her with a similar expression. “Lady Eddara.”

“Why have you called me here?”

“After careful consideration, I have decided to cut the additional taxes on your kingdom to three quarters of what they were before, to give the North some time to adjust. I am afraid I cannot get rid of them entirely, though, for reparations must be made.”

Eddara nodded. At this point, this was the best she was going to get it. “Thank you, my king. If that’s all, I shall take my leave of you.”

She curtsied again, turning to leave, before suddenly, a hand snaked around her wrist. 

Her wrist burned, and Ned felt as if her body was suddenly engulfed in flames as she jerked away from the touch, heat sizzling underneath her skin.

“Wait.”

Rhaegar’s solemn indigo eyes peered into hers.

“What else?”

“What do you mean, what else?” Eddara scoffed, trying to hide her shaking fingers behind her back.

“What else do I have to do before you forgive me?”

“Bring my family back from the dead. Let me go home.”

Rhaega let out an exasperated sigh. “I cannot do that.”

“The former is beyond your power, yes. The latter is not.”

“I cannot take the chance of you going back and causing another uprising in the North. It would destabilize the realm, leading only to more wars and bloodshed,” Rhaegar responded pragmatically, and Eddara hated how he was right. How he saw through her intentions immediately, because of course she would rebel once more, of course she would seek to make sure the sacrifices of her family were not in vain.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps, if she was allowed to return, she would want peace, just as Rhaegar did... but even then, the northerners around her would want blood, to avenge her father. Besides, she had sealed her fate as soon as she had instructed Maester Walys to send aid to Robert. She had chosen her side. 

“I’m sorry, Ned. I just want what’s best for the realm now, especially since I have failed it so miserably.”

She pursed her lips. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Everyone thought they were doing what was best for their people, or their family, or their honor, yet everyone had different ideas of what exactly that meant. For Eddara, protecting her people meant rebelling against the southerners who were punishing the North for fighting on the losing side of the war. For Rhaegar, it meant stopping any rebellion she or anyone else may try to begin again, to bring peace and stability to the realm.

“Is there no chance at redemption, Ned? Is there no chance of me healing this realm after it has been so violently torn apart?” There was something almost _vulnerable_ in his voice as he pleaded with her. 

She wanted to say no. Eddara wanted to spit in his face and ask him if he had been thinking about all this when he had been who-knows-where doing who-knows-what with Lyanna as the realm burned up around them.

It would accomplish nothing, though. She would still be a hostage, and like it or not, he was still the king.

“Redemption for what you did to me and my family? No. But if you truly seek to build a better realm... I wish you luck. For the sake of the people of Westeros, if nothing else. Perhaps, in time... this wound that you have created will heal itself.”

“Besides, Aerys is as much to blame for all of this as you are. And so is Lyanna, for that matter,” Ned admitted grudgingly. She felt only bitterness when it came to Rhaegar, but she cannot fairly rest the blame solely on the king’s shoulders, not when so many had helped contribute to the disaster that was Robert’s Rebellion. 

Lyanna had _chosen_ to run off with Rhaegar. Eddara had kept her sister’s secret and her own instead of telling her father after the tourney. Brandon had rashly confronted a mad king with no care for the consequences. Father had stupidly requested a trial by combat, believing that a mad king would give him a fair trial. Robert and Jon Arryn had kept her off the battlefield and sent her inexperienced younger brother in her stead. Aerys... his sins were innumerable, as he had ingnited the spark that led to a flame when he burned her father alive. Tywin Lannister had killed mere babes in the Sack of King’s Landing. Even the kingsguard, the paragons of virtue throughout the realm, had obeyed the mad king’s orders for years and followed their prince into war.

They had all made mistakes, every single one of them. More than one person had the chance to correct Rhaegar’s folly, including the man himself, and yet none had. Only the commonfolk who died for their lords’ war, Elia, Rhaenys, and Benjen were truly innocent in all this.

The rest of them would all take their sins to the grave.

But dwelling on the mistakes of the past would not fix them. There was only the future to look forward to now, and Ned had to believe that the future would be brighter than the present. Eddara had to believe that redemption for the realm, in some way, shape, or form, was possible.

So, she gave Rhaegar the slightest of nods. It was not forgiveness... it was acceptance, and it was an acknowledgement of hope. The possibility that one day, the seven kingdoms would recover and thrive despite all they had endured, if Rhaegar proved to be the kind of king he had promised her he would be all that time ago in Harrenhal.

Rhaegar’s mouth twitched upwards. “Thank you.”

“I know you hate me. I know you probably always will. But I promise you... I will learn from the mistakes of the past.”

“For the sake of the realm, I hope you do.”

He nodded. “And will you help me? Will you help me create a better realm?”

Ned frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I would like to meet with you weekly. To address the needs of the kingdoms who rebelled, particularly the North, to ensure a prosperous future without any more skirmishes. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the northerners and the lords of the Stormlands have been particularly stubborn, and I want to be a king for all my people, my lady, not just some of them.”

Eddara hesitated. She didn’t _want_ to work with this man. Ned wasn’t even sure if she wouldn’t slit his throat given the chance, and yet... he was giving her a seat at the table. A measure of influence over the decisions that were being made for her kingdom. 

_Opportunities will begin to present themselves to you. You only need to learn how to use them._

“Yes,” she found herself responding.

“I think I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This chapter ended up being way longer than I thought it’d be. 
> 
> So, this chapter’s title pretty much gives you the two major themes discussed in it, especially for the latter half. Eddara struggles between doing what is “honorable” v. engaging in a little deception to find a way to go back home. Not to mention, in the world of King’s Landing, she is confronted with difficult questions on what honor really means, and if the world is just a little more grey than any singular code of honor that she once idealized. The whole concept of redemption is another big one, since our characters grapple with the idea of whether or not it’s even possible to gain redemption for the sins of their past, once again playing into the grey morality thing.
> 
> The biggest misconception I think people may take away from this is the idea that Ned is somehow forgiving Rhaegar. She’s not. She still blames him for much of what happened to the realm in the first place. What Ned is doing is she’s trying to move forward in her life and acknowledge the fact that there is hope for the future. She hopes that he will atleast turn out to be a decent king who will take care of the people, because hope is the only thing she really has at this point, and her being angry or angsty isn’t going to get her anywhere, and it certainly isn’t helping the North. Her becoming sort of an advisor and influencing the king’s decisions on what to do with the North? Now she’s getting somewhere. 
> 
> If you guys have any specific questions or would like me to explain anything about the characters though, feel free to ask!
> 
> Please read and review! Comments and kudos are always much appreciated!
> 
> UP NEXT: Lyanna and Cersei talk, and so do Ned and Rhaegar. It’s a surprise to no one when they disagree. A _lot._


End file.
